Deep In the Woods

by Chris Marie Green

Turning to the back of this book, she found the pages blank. Then she backtracked to the middle, where the last entry had been labeled with the present year.

  It read: “Lilly Elisabeta, activated. (The powers help us all.)”

  Immediately above was: “Charles Edward, missing, deceased.”

  Hey, how would they know he was, in fact, dead?

  Also, why was Lilly’s name—again the only female—the only one to have that demeaning note next to it?

  Dawn scanned backward now. The book was just a record of how the keepers had died, and it looked like some of them had bitten the dust while on duty. But a few entries had a word next to them that had a more sinister ring to it than it should’ve.

  Retired.

  What happened to those ninja-weird shadow things when they retired, for God’s sake? Was there some sort of home for them where they could run around playing tag-the-spy? Was there a pension plan?

  She read on, discovering entries that read: “excused from duty—heart defect.” Actually, there were quite of a few of those. And they accounted for deaths, too, with really young males.

  But this research wasn’t really getting Dawn anywhere. She needed proof that the dragon was in this Underground, and she needed to know where those keepers were stationed because, based on the psychics’ visions, the custodes should lead to the big master. She supposed that this house in Kent, which was too far from London for the keepers to be on the scene as much as Lilly was, wasn’t where the base would be located. Menlo Hall was obviously just a family estate—plus a cradle of records—and Dawn would put money down on the fact that there’d be no Underground or Costin here.

  Her bet was still on Highgate, where the team had already found vampires gathered. It’d just been a question of what sort of vampires.

  Find what you need, she thought, scooting into camera range and putting this book back, reaching for another. Find the dragon. Hurry.

  Her next reading project looked like a regular Bible, but when she opened it to glance over the contents, she almost dropped it.

  Once, when Dawn was in high school, she’d picked up a copy of The Exorcist from a used bookstore, of all places. It’d been summer, and Frank had barred her out of the house again in favor of communing with his bottle and memories of Eva’s “murder,” so she’d waited him out down the street at this new store, which also carried comic books. She’d been aimlessly wandering, pulling books, then losing interest and moving on to the next, when she’d opened the pages of the novel. And the pages had been . . . Damn, she could still smell them.

  The pages had been unlike any other book Dawn had cracked. As she’d looked it over, she’d even gotten ill, and she’d ditched it, thinking that the evil in the book was coming off the paper.

  Now, she detected the same page-stench with this item, but she couldn’t shelve it.

  The book was in narrative form, written as if a member of the family had sat down and done some casual journaling, but without providing the dates. Dawn rushed over the script, her blood thudding, cold fingers seeming to pluck at the back of her neck.

  Meratoliage family . . . initially black-art bred from the best of military men and witches to be servants . . .

  Dawn paused. Servants of what? Mihas and Claudius’s Underground?

  Or the dragon?

  And “black-art bred”?

  That would explain the strange body arrangement for the kid in the lab freezer. The heart, the not-quite-human blood . . .

  Dawn sped on, trying not to let the smell of the pages get to her.

  To keep bloodlines pure . . . interbreeding . . .

  And she got sicker. Incest? Was this family like old royalty in Egypt? Brothers, sisters, together?

  She continued, landing on an unfamiliar word.

  Relaquory . . .

  She could barely breathe. Vision blurring with excitement, she slowed down and concentrated on this passage, her heartbeat blip-ping in her throat.

  Every night, there is Relaquory. We thank him for this gift, the ability to draw from the power he emanates.

  Everything crashed together: the dragon. It had to be. And he had bodyguards.

  Custodes.

  Either there was a third wicked master—one unlike any blood brother Costin had ever encountered—or this was all the proof Dawn needed that the dragon was in this damned Underground.

  Just as she was about to see if it told where the Underground was located, Kalin shouted.

  “Leave!”

  For a crazed second, Dawn considered staying right here. The location had to be in one of these books.

  Trudy joined in. “Someone’s coming from the security room! I can hear Monica telling us from outside!”

  An alarm from a patrolling Friend. Had a security worker noticed something about the mobility of the study’s camera, even though the Friends had been so careful? Was he or she coming to check it out?

  Impulsively, Dawn ripped out a bunch of thin pages—not enough to be obvious—then shoved them under the top part of her apron just before putting the book back on the shelf. She crossed her arms over her prize, unwilling to give up the little she could take with her.

  She thought she heard a murmur of approval from Kalin just before running for the door, opening it and following the speeding Friends as they guided her down the halls, which felt like they went on forever, then out of the main house, where the spirits led Dawn to a bank of tall bushes nearby.

  They hid there for a while, Dawn’s heart beating against the pages that could help end the quest for Costin’s soul.

  And maybe even save the world in the bargain.

  SIXTEEN

  THE JACKPOT

  ABOUT forty-five minutes before dusk, Dawn sat herself in a chair in front of Claudius at temporary headquarters with the Meratoliage pages in her hands for the vampire to gawk at.

  He must’ve recognized the scent of evil paper, but way worse than Dawn had, because he recoiled from those yellowed pages. Or maybe he was just shocked that she was holding them like a revealed full house in a poker game.

  “You have no right to those,” he said, recovering enough to act like he was royalty again, even though he’d been transferred to the throne of a plain wooden chair, his robe the same blanket he’d been wearing since his capture, his courtiers the same Friends who’d been binding him for most of the day.

  Dawn realized she was holding her breath, and she let it go. She’d half expected Claudius to smack out with any remaining powers he might have, because this would be the time to lay all his cards on the table, with her, here, holding this all-important information.

  But she really must’ve disabled him that first night when she’d mentally roughed him up. Costin’s constant Awareness attacks had also done him further damage.

  That would only help their cause now though. After returning from Menlo Hall—where she’d rushed to dress the maid back in her uniform so the girl would wake up thinking she’d just taken a nice nap—Dawn had scanned the evil pages, even while trying to drive back. Then she’d brought Kiko and Natalia far down in the shelter away from Claudius, where he shouldn’t be able to hear them talking, especially with his hearing muffled by a Friend. The psychics had told her that they hadn’t made any progress with the master vampire themselves, so after chatting about what Dawn now had in her possession, they’d formulated a new approach to questioning him.

  They probably could’ve used Frank’s help—he would’ve been some pretty intimidating muscle to back them up—but Dawn’s dad was still resting in his private room, and she thought it best to let him snooze because he’d be that much fresher if they had to head out at dusk.

  But to where? She didn’t know yet.

  She glanced at a digital clock on the wall. Still a little time left . . .

  Folding one leg over the other, she rested the fragile pages on her thigh. Unfortunately, she’d managed to pull some pretty useless stuff from the book: history about the dragon, which Dawn was alre
ady pretty well acquainted with, thanks to Costin.

  She just wished she knew more about the custodes than a vague idea of what Relaquory was or that a keeper’s anatomy was screwed up because of the all the black magic and genetic tampering that’d gone on with them.

  “A treasure trove of information,” she said to Claudius, nonetheless, acting like she had more than she really did. Bluffing at its finest. “Surely you don’t mind my borrowing pages from one of your custode’s library books? Sharing what you learn is a part of any great society.”

  Claudius remained regal. By Dawn’s side, Kiko lightly knocked her with his knuckles, signaling her to go ahead with their strategy.

  She would read to Claudius about the dragon, getting the vampire’s mind on the subject while the psychics touched the pages, just as they’d touched the custode blood earlier. They were hoping that Claudius’s thoughts would stray again and they would be able to pick up on something from him with their combined powers.

  What else could they do besides beating the hell out of the closed-mouth vamp for information?

  The smell of the paper kept at Dawn as Kiko made contact with it and Natalia leaned into him for a link.

  “The dragon’s background,” Dawn said. “Oh, it already sounds like a most wonderful story.”

  “I know of it already,” the vamp said.

  “But to hear it again . . .” Dawn continued, adapting her best storyteller voice as she put the narrative into her own words. She hoped her antics would distract Claudius from their real purpose.

  They’d see.

  “Long, long ago,” she said, “the dragon perished in his human incarnation, making everyone think he was truly dead and gone. But, really, the big bad master was lying very low instead of pursuing the political matters that had ruled his life before. His enemies moved on, giving dragonface a chance to enjoy his vampiric life-style. And how he did enjoy it.”

  She smiled sarcastically, but Claudius wasn’t so amused.

  “Time slipped on by,” she added, “all while he was making plans to regain his properties and then some . . .” Dawn turned a page over. “. . . and blah, blah, blah, until . . .” She turned to the next one. “. . . the late eighteen hundreds, when his legend was brought to major attention by an author who made certain the dragon’s name would never be forgotten.”

  She glanced up at Claudius. “Wow. How about that? Thanks to Stoker, the dragon got so well known that he couldn’t go outside without sunglasses and a baseball cap. Fame crapped on his plans to secretly go back to being a nasty prince and all.”

  Claudius’s jaw clenched. “You really are trying so hard, aren’t you?”

  Dawn kept looking down at the pages; she wasn’t going to let him play with her.

  Reading directly from the narrative, she said, “ ‘ Knowing he would never again be able to maneuver in secrecy, the dragon enlisted his blood-vow vampire progeny to allow him an opportunity to rise, to become stronger and more powerful than ever so secrecy wouldn’t be required in his efforts to regain his old political position. He was then buried for two hundred years. During this time of rest in a coffin that contained his native soil, he would gather inner power. He commanded his men to quietly invade society while multiplying their numbers. When he arose again, he would have more than just an army to command and more than his former holdings—he would go after the world itself, as well.’ ”

  Dawn waited to see if Kiko and Natalia had divined anything, but they were still trancing. Damn.

  “So,” she said, flowing straight into question time for Claudius, “are we to take it that you were part of the lucky community who guarded the dragon all this time?”

  No answer, of course.

  “Why you?” Dawn added. “Why not some other poor schmucks?”

  Natalia began to whisper. “Claudius . . . volunteered when the dragon privately approached him. Always with a plan . . . dragon always depended on Claudius’s brains, not might . . . He took care of the dragon while Mihas was away, even when there was no Underground to support his efforts, only custodes standing by . . .”

  Then, as suddenly as the new girl had spoken, she stood straight up. Dawn and Kiko did, too, reaching out to steady Natalia.

  “What?” Dawn asked her.

  “That smarts.” Natalia pressed her hands against her head. “Claudius shut himself off and I went . . .”

  She gestured with one hand and Dawn understood that to mean that she had slammed into a mental barrier.

  Kiko seemed to have forgotten about whatever was distracting him, and he held Natalia’s hand. He obviously didn’t like to see her in discomfort, but with Claudius’s diminished abilities, it wasn’t a fraction as bad as it would’ve been if the vamp was healthy.

  “Use me to get your mojo back,” he said to her. “Just like we did earlier, together.”

  Natalia squeezed his hand and they sat down, assuming trance position, eyes closed, their breathing deep and synchronized. Jasmine gathered above them, as if trying to lend strength, too.

  Dawn surrendered the book pages to the psychics, and she thought she felt a rub of energy near their skin as they both grasped the paper.

  That could’ve been Dawn’s imagination though.

  “The dragon,” she said to Claudius to get him back to where they needed him.

  The vampire started to quiver like a tuning fork.

  “Dragon,” both Kiko and Natalia said.

  Claudius made the same noise he had yesterday when Costin had used his Awareness to dig into his blood brother’s head. It was a frightening groan pitching up to a shriek.

  “Dragon!” repeated the psychics.

  Dawn’s temples felt like they were vising inward, a result of the pressure in the room. Even the Friends were getting hoppy, darting here and there. They were saying the name, too, but in their whispery, ghostly voices.

  “Dragon . . . Dragon . . .”

  As Claudius grated out a moan, the psychics hunched together, shutting Dawn out as she wrapped her arms over her head so she wouldn’t have to hear the vampire. Still, his rising screech hollowed into her.

  Kiko came up for air from his and Natalia’s huddle, just as if he’d broken the surface of a lake.

  “New Gilby,” he said, gasping. “Hotel, one kilometer northwest of the Lion and the Lamb.”

  Dawn’s victory cry was muffled as she fisted her hands at her side. She wouldn’t put it past Claudius to be giving them a false location, tooling around with them, but at least they had something to compare with what Costin had given to Frank.

  As Kiko and Natalia slumped against each other in an exhausted hug, Dawn sprinted to her resting father’s room.

  Almost dusk . . . Almost time to make a move if they had to. . . .

  She busted into the dark room to find him in his bed, covered from head to toe in blankets.

  “Dad,” she whispered, not wanting to spook him. “Get up. We need you.”

  She didn’t want to be too close when a vamp awoke suddenly, so she kept a couple feet between her and the bed. But when Frank didn’t move, she inched closer.

  “Dad?”

  Kiko had stumbled into the room, too. Dawn suspected Natalia was still with Claudius and the Friends who were surrounding him.

  “Frank?” he said. “Claudius got a little loose with his lips. . . .”

  “He’s out like a burnt bulb, Kik.”

  “But he always wakes up when you need him, even before dusk, which is close enough.” Kiko opened the door a little wider so that light from the hallway shone over their vampire. “Frank?”

  A groan sounded from beneath the blankets.

  “Dad, Claudius gave us a location.”

  “The New Gilby Hotel,” Kiko added.

  “Frank, is that where Costin told you he was going?”

  She and Kiko waited. Waited.

  Then Frank spoke in a struggling whisper. “Dawn . . .”

  After trading a frown with Kiko, she pulled down
the blankets.

  What she saw flashed a stark whiteness over her vision—a shock that sliced down her body until it became a thin pulse in her chest.

  Her dad—paler than ever, skin wrinkled, eyes a weak green in the dimness.

  “Not . . . feeling . . . good,” he managed to say.

  So this was what it was like to be soaked in ether, Dawn thought, floating in a state of bafflement.

  Kiko gathered enough words to echo what she was trying to understand. “How can a vampire get sick?”

  Frank tried to climb out of bed, but Dawn didn’t let him. She pushed him back down to the mattress, and it was real easy, too. Usually, he would only have to flick his finger to send her flying across a room. Not that he’d ever tried it, but . . .

  “Got . . . work . . . to do . . .” he said, once again trying to rise. But he couldn’t.

  Kiko was already out of the room, saying over his shoulder, “There’s stored blood in the fridge, but I don’t know how old it is. I’ll get a bag or two for him if it’s good.”

  “Kiko’s got you covered,” Dawn said, sitting beside Frank, even though she wondered if she could catch what he’d contracted. But maybe this was a vampire flu or something, so unless it attacked former vamps, too, she’d be immune.

  “Already had blood . . .” Then he seemed overwhelmed by puzzlement. “Or . . . I think I did . . . Wasn’t enough . . .”

  What the hell was he talking about? He’d been in here resting.

  She hated to do this, but they were hunters. There was a situation that needed full attention, even with her father looking ready to puke.

  “Dad, can you just tell me Costin’s location? We need to see if it’s a match.” She felt like shit for playing boss girl instead of Florence Nightingale. “I know a match won’t verify whether Claudius sent Costin into a trap or not, but at least we’ll have somewhere to target if he doesn’t come back soon.”

  “Near the New Gilby . . .” he said.

  Dawn put her hand on his arm as his words faded. It was enough of a match for her.

  She itched to start loading up on weapons, but her dad kept her planted on the bed. He hadn’t even fought her on giving up the information Costin had entrusted to him, and that worried her more than his lethargy or complexion.