Her Lying Days Are Done

by Robert J. Crane

  “'Byron's'?” she asked. “As in the Byron? He of the stalker fame?”

  “Yeah, that guy. Anyway, some sorcerers showed up—”

  “Sorcerers?” she asked. “There are sorcerers now?”

  “Is this a bad time to tell that you Faeries are real?” I asked. “And that Lockwood is one?”

  Xandra’s mouth fell open.

  “The sorcerers were sent after me by Draven,” I said. “We needed a place to lay low. We chose you… Because you're the only one left they don't know about.”

  “Are we safe here?” Xandra asked.

  It was a good question, and I looked at Iona for the answer.

  “As long as Lockwood keeps up whatever he’s doing,” she said.

  “Wow…” Xandra said. “So, it’s full Godfather, all the scores are being settled, huh?”

  “Something like that,” I said with a heavy sigh.

  “What about Mill? And your dad?” Xandra asked.

  “The sorcerers hit them,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “With spells.”

  “Are they okay?” Xandra asked.

  “Dad is, according to Lockwood,” I said. “Mill was poisoned somehow.”

  “And her?” Xandra said, jutting her chin in Laura’s direction. I knew that Xandra really didn’t care for Laura, being pretty much the most popular girl in our year. But still.

  “I’m all right,” Laura said, rubbing her neck. She seemed better. She still looked exhausted, though. It was the first time since I'd known her that she looked at all disheveled.

  “So we're on a time limit,” Xandra said. “Between the poisoning and this Draven coming after you.”

  “Xandra... I don’t want you to get involved,” I said. “We just need a place to lay low.”

  “You got me involved when you showed up on my doorstep,” she said.

  “Draven is not going to stop,” Iona said, folding her arms across her chest. “He is relentless, and he has a grudge to settle, an axe to grind. And he's going to grind it on Cassie's face. Jacquelyn, too. She doesn't seem the forgiving type.”

  Xandra gave me a look.

  “Former holder of the 'bestie' office,” I said. “Fighting Draven and the sorcerers doesn't seem like a great idea. What about running? Maybe leaving the country?”

  Iona shook her head.

  “Come on, there has to be something, like a vampire witness protection program, right?” I asked.

  She kept shaking her head.

  “Well, I don’t hear you giving me any suggestions,” I said, glaring daggers at her.

  “No,” Iona said. “You could never run far enough to escape them.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “He's the vampire Lord of Tampa. We go to Miami, it's a different Lord's territory. Why can't we just run outside his reach?”

  “Because vampire Lords watch their territories jealously, always looking for trouble coming,” she said, her gaze darkening. “It’s not like you did something small, Cassie. You’re a human, and you've been slaying vampires. Whether or not you believe it, you’ve drawn a lot of attention, and made yourself a threat to every vampire Lord the world over. When vampires have a common enemy, they help each other out. The safety of the vampire community is more important than petty differences when it comes to situations like this.”

  The skin on my arms popped out in goosebumps. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

  “They have eyes and ears in every corner of the world,” Iona said. “They are not above using governments or technology like facial recognition in order to find you. And they will find you.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Seriously.”

  “So even if we were to run to Canada—” I said.

  “Draven has you on the vampire equivalent of a Most Wanted list right now, Cassie. Any area you venture to, the vampire Lord there will be looking for you. You know how easy it is to miss a vampire as you pass them on the street. But they won't miss you, the vampire slayer who's been making waves. Word will get back to their masters, and Draven will be made aware of you so quickly that you won't be able to do a thing to respond.”

  “Even in the middle of nowhere, like, New Zealand?” I asked, desperate for any kind of hope.

  “There are definitely vampires in New Zealand,” Xandra said. “Didn't you see What We Do In The Shadows?”

  “You make them sound like the boogeyman.” I sighed and laid my head on the dining room table. The wood was cool beneath my forehead, and I took a deep, steadying breath. “We can’t run, and we can’t fight. We can't just hide here forever. So what do we do?” I was asking anyone who would listen, but I was almost hoping that the table would give me some sort of magical inspiration.

  I sat up. Magic.

  “Faerie,” I said. “We can cross over to Faerie. It’s—”

  “No.”

  I turned at the sound of Lockwood’s voice. He was still staring at the wall. But he had a hand in the air, waving it around to get my attention while still trying to concentrate on what he was doing.

  “O…kay,” I said. “I guess that option’s out.”

  “Faerie is not very friendly to vampires,” Iona said.

  “I guess,” I said. “I vaguely recall Lockwood saying something about that. Plus, I guess a decent portion of Faerie is mad at me right now, so...” I sighed. “If Lockwood says it's not an option, it's not an option.” Lockwood gave me a thumbs up when I glanced at him.

  “Wait, Faerie?” Xandra asked. “Like… A world of faeries?”

  I looked at Xandra, desperate now. “What?” she asked.

  “I'm exhausted,” I said, all my vitality sapped. “We all are. We need a fresh brain.”

  “You're a zombie now?” Xandra asked. “Kidding, but... I have no idea what to do. This whole world of magic and vampires and faeries? It's so weird to me. I don't have a clue what to do.”

  Iona was scratching her chin, staring at a knot in the wooden table.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked her.

  Her eyes narrowed in concentration. “I might… I don’t know.”

  “What?” I said. “Iona... we are at the end of the road, okay? We can't run, we can't fight with who we have available now. Mill's injured, Lockwood is going to be chanting into perpetuity to keep these sorcerers off of us, which means if we have trouble, you and I are going to be fighting off Draven's minions all by our lonesome. The only thing we've got going for us is that they don't know where to look, and eventually Lockwood is going to have to stop chanting and go to sleep. We need something. Help. A chance. So if you have any ideas...any at all...please.” I set my chin. “Now's the time.”

  She looked up at me, her sad eyes pensive. “Even if it's a crazy idea? So crazy that it barely makes sense to contemplate it?”

  I sagged. “I think crazy might be all we have left.”

  She nodded slowly. “Well...if we're down to crazy... I might know someone—just a little crazy—who could help us.”

  Chapter 16

  Iona and I left just before dawn, the air filled with cool night moisture. We drove along in her car, following the coast, heading south along the interstate, roads empty save for the truckers that took advantage of the lack of crowding at four in the morning.

  Leaving had been tough, if quiet, appropriate to the hour. I had hated leaving Mill, but he had insisted that I go. Dad had seemed to be regaining color, and Laura had passed out on the table in the kitchen, sleeping peacefully, hair pooled around her and her shoulders covered with a blanket Mr. Stewart had put on her as he passed through. I'd told Xandra to keep an eye on her. Lockwood had kept up his steady chanting in the corner, only nodding when I asked if I would be okay if I left.

  The steady thrum of the engine threatened to put me to sleep as the miles passed. It felt like we had been going for hours, my sleep-addled brain dragging with every minute that I stayed awake. I would look at the clock, then have to look again seconds later, unable to remember the time even t
hough I'd just stared at it hard enough to commit it to memory.

  We pulled off the highway at the exit for one of the gulf coast beaches, our smooth highway cruise at an end. Iona dialed back the speed accordingly, and suddenly we got stuck at nearly every red light, which was roughly every quarter mile. Iona screeched to a stop at every single one, riding the brakes rather than tearing through a yellow light at top speed the way my mom would.

  “You know, I never had you pegged for a Volkswagen Beetle kind of girl,” I said. “Or for being a grandma driver.”

  “Well, I am old enough to be your grandmother.” Iona gave me a sidelong look with the slightest hint of a smirk.

  “Where are we going?” I asked her for the tenth time. “Why are we in Sarasota?”

  She kept silent as we turned right at the next stop light, onto another three-lane road.

  Sarasota County was what I always imagined Florida to be like. Beautiful palm trees in every yard, perfectly manicured landscapes at every business and in every median, every one of which looked brand new. Even in the dark, this place looked like it was made of money.

  “There are people here that I think might be the only ones who would even consider getting involved in our... issue,” Iona said. “You have to understand. Vampire Lords are dangerous. No one wants to be within ten feet of someone who has a target painted on their back. The potential to get hit by splash damage is high.”

  “That didn't stop you or Mill,” I said.

  She chewed on her lip. “Look, I chose to help you with Byron. And because of my decision to help, you got mixed up with Draven, so… You can almost say that this whole thing is my fault.”

  I stared at her. “You think this is your fault?” I barked a laugh. “Iona, you weren’t the one who told me to shove a stake into Theo’s chest.”

  “Yes, but I was the one who gave you the stake in the first place, wasn’t I?” Her eyes were so sad, morose to a level she didn't typically inhabit.

  “If you hadn’t, I'd be dead,” I said.

  “And that would have been my fault, too,” she said.

  I shifted in the seat to look at her more closely. “Iona, I don’t blame you for what's happening to me.”

  “Yeah, well…” she said, her brow furrowing, and she tossed her silvery blonde hair over her shoulder. I caught sight of the tiny braid again. “I do. So does Mill, for that matter.”

  My cheeks burned. “I don't think Mill believes that.”

  “He's not stupid, Cassie,” Iona said. “He can draw the line between me sending you to that party and all the consequences that have come out of it. If I hadn't put you into that situation, none of this would have happened.”

  “But I wouldn't have met him,” I said. “And I'd probably have been eaten by Byron. I might even be part of Draven's little community at this point, if Byron had turned me.”

  She seemed to think about that for a moment, then shook her head slowly. “I don't believe you would have. I think you would have found another way out. You're resourceful that way.”

  I stared ahead, the bright red of the tail lights in front of us making the inside of the car glow crimson as we slowed to a stop. There were more cars on the road now, people heading to their early shifts at factories or hospitals. A horn honked in the distance, and the dull, growing thrum of the engine picked up as Iona accelerated when the light turned green.

  “I don't know about that,” I said.

  Iona didn’t reply. She flipped on her turn signal, and suddenly we had rolled into a totally different neighborhood.

  All of the houses were… different. And yet, familiar at the same time. Like little cottages, they all looked the same as the one sitting beside it. White siding, little brick chimneys poking out of the roof. The street was darker than the rest of Sarasota had been…almost as if they didn’t use electricity—

  “Is this an Amish community?” I asked.

  Iona, who was leaning forward in her seat, straining to peer out of the windshield into the darkness, gave me a quick look. “Yes,” she said.

  “What are we doing in an Amish community?” I asked.

  “It's hard to explain,” she said.

  We turned into a small, narrow driveway halfway down the street. There was light inside the house, a warm yellow that flickered against closed blinds. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It wasn’t even five a.m. yet.

  Iona brought us to a stop and killed the engine, then opened the door, sliding out of the car as gracefully as if she were dancing.

  A slight pang of jealousy welled in me as I scrambled out after her, bumping my head as I got up. I rubbed my head as I followed her up the small flagstone path that led around the back of the house. The air was warm, even for the early morning. I'd been told that Florida weather was like that, especially the closer we got to summer. Thankfully it was still bearable, despite the sweat beading on my back.

  There were three bikes parked next to the small covered front porch, but I had never seen bikes quite like these before. They all had three wheels, like a grown-up tricycle, and there was a small metal basket soldered between the two back wheels. As I glanced up and down the street, I saw them parked in front of every house. What, had they replaced their horse and buggy with those?

  I also hadn't ever seen the Amish living so closely together. Where I was from, there were acres and acres of land in between the houses in Amish communities, even if they all did live in the same general area. There were no barns here that I could see, nothing to suggest any farming was going on.

  So...what were they doing here?

  “Iona,” I hissed into the darkness, hoping to not trip on the darkened path. “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t answer. I watched her silvery blonde hair flow in the breeze as she stepped around the corner of the house. I groaned and hurried to keep up with her.

  The backyard was small. There was a tiny porch out back, with a few of those Adirondack chairs that seemed to be all the rage. There was a clothesline in the yard next door, white, black, and blue clothing drifting in the wind. A small pink dress dancing gently in the breeze provided the only color contrast.

  There were no fences separating the yards. In the middle of the one we were crossing was a small shed with a wire-mesh screen on the front. A chicken coop, I realized, as I heard some of the hens clucking, their wings fluttering as we approached. A small battery powered lantern hung on the porch, light filtering out into the lawn. Standing there in the back yard, silhouetted against its light, three people were staring at us.

  One was a tall, broad shouldered man who looked like he worked hard every day of his life. His large belly overhung his belt, and rounded biceps bigger than my head spurred to mind what a lumberjack's arms would probably look like. He wore a black brimmed hat, and I could see red tufts of hair leaking out from beneath the hat that matched his long, coppery beard. No mustache, though. As was the Amish way.

  Two women were huddled at the chicken coop, both with wicker baskets in their hands. One wore a pale blue dress and a white bonnet, the other a dress of cobalt blue. They were staring at us with wide eyes.

  That was it. Iona had finally lost her mind. Or I was hallucinating from the exhaustion. One of the two.

  The coppery haired man was giving Iona a wary look, but he didn’t say anything. Did they know each other? Why wouldn’t they be freaking out about two strange girls showing up at their house at four in the morning?

  What had happened to my life? Here I was, standing in some sort of Amish backyard, with a vampire no less, looking for someone to help us deal with some crazy sorcerers determined to kill everyone I cared about. Oh, and my house had burned down last night, the second one to do so in the last couple months.

  Was I losing my mind? None of this made sense, and none of it was normal.

  And yet somehow it all made perfect sense. Someone could have written a screenplay about my life and it would have come off as the schizophrenic rantings of a madwoma
n. It would be a blockbuster—if anyone could follow the crazy turn of events from compulsive lying to vampires to Faerie to an Amish neighborhood in Sarasota, Florida.

  What was happening to my life?

  The women stood up straight, looking to the man for some sort of signal. The back door to the house opened, and a boy no older than me stepped out. “Father, I was wondering. Did we—”

  He faltered as he followed his father’s gaze.

  The boy was a chip off the old block. He had ginger hair as well, but his lack of a beard told me he was not of marriageable age yet. His time probably wasn’t far off. He staggered to a halt beside his dad, only a half a head shorter than the big man. They even folded their arms the same way as they stared at us.

  “What do you want?” The man’s voice had some sort of northern accent. I had heard it before. Pennsylvania Dutch. My mom had loved going down to Southern Pennsylvania to all the Amish communities there. Her favorite things were the quilts. She’d buy them and give them away as Christmas gifts every year.

  Iona took a step closer, and while none of the Amish moved, the hesitance was clear in their expressions. I was impressed, though, that none of them stepped away. They were standing their ground.

  “Greetings, Elder Obadiah,” Iona said, more formally than I had expected. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen me.”

  “Not long enough,” he said. His voice was deep, gruff, almost a growl. Did he know what she was? Like, really was?

  Iona gave him a toothy smile. She really was pretty when she tried. Not for the first time, I could see why Byron had picked her. I was a little less clear on why he'd picked me.

  “Who is this?” Elder Obadiah asked, nodding his head in my direction.

  Iona’s eyes flashed as she looked at me. “Her name is Cassie. She’s my friend, and the reason why I’m here. Cassie, this is Elder Obadiah. An old friend.”

  He grunted, his eyes narrowing further. Friend was obviously not a term he would have chosen.

  “Father, who is this?” the boy beside Elder Neckbeard asked.