by D. R. Perry
“Yeah, Margot helped Fred and me with something major in the Under, like I told you already.” Irina folded her arms over her chest. “Didn’t I say I thought she’s his other target? Did you forget that or something?”
“No. Well, yeah.” I sighed, then looked Margot right in her amazing emerald green eyes. “Sorry, Margot. About everything.”
“Just give me that interview I’ve been waiting seven years for within the next couple of days, and we’re square.”
“Sure.” I got up, walking toward Margot, fully intending to make good on that promise right then and there. Then my phone rang, and the course of my night changed.
Chapter Seven
My Father’s Room
“Hi, Mom,” I said into the speaker. “What’s up?”
“Lane, it’s your father.” Her usually quavery voice shook even more with fear. “He’s trashing the nursing home again.”
“Sorry, guys.” I went directly out the door. “Family stuff.”
As I headed down the hall, I heard Pete and Dave telling everyone with better-than-average hearing that I was used to handling this particular problem on my own. They were right, but I sure would have loved some company. Outside the hotel, I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the place I was staying was only a couple of blocks from the facility Dad had lived in for the last handful of years. I’d dashed out without asking for the keys to the van, and the irony of my absentmindedness was like a punch in the gut.
I turned up the street, my strides eating sidewalk as fast as I could manage without letting on to the hipsters and other vacationing folks that I was a vampire. In less than five minutes, I approached the front desk. I knew the lady seated behind it, a mortal retiree who worked here on the overnight shift.
“Hi, Jan.” I showed her my Extrahuman Registry ID, and she wrote its number down with a V beside it, indicating I’d voluntarily disclosed my vampiric status.
“Yes, hello, Jan.” I froze at the feminine voice, staring down at the ID pushed across the desk by a delicate, manicured hand. A head of wavy red hair framed the woman’s face in the picture, green eyes twinkling even in the captured image.
“Margot?” I turned to look her in her actual face. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought you could use some company, even if you’ve got things covered.”
“You mean an alibi, right?” I raised an eyebrow, not wanting to go into detail about the police and the Gattos in front of the nice lady who’d been checking me in and out to visit Dad all this time.
“No, I mean company.” Margot closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ve been in places like this too many times.” I peered at the birthdate on her ID, which read September 18, 1949. She opened her eyes again, meeting my gaze. “But if you’d rather go alone, I’ll head back to the hotel.”
“Um, Jan,” I glanced back at the desk attendant and almost did a double-take because her eyes were all misty. “Uh, is it okay if I bring Miss Malone with me?”
“Of course.” Jan nodded once firmly. She dabbed the corner of one eye. I wondered whether Jan was Psychic or something. If she was, I didn’t want to know what she just saw. “As soon as I get her signed in.”
Jan did the paperwork while I tried not to stare at Margot. This gorgeous, brilliant woman understood about combative elderly folks with dementia? And I’d been the idiot blowing her off for seven years. “Idiot” was too weak a word. I’d been a colossal jerkwad, assuming a lady like Margot Malone was some fangirl band groupie with a lame ‘zine or blog.
We walked through the double doors after Jan buzzed us in. I let my feet travel the familiar route. The only silver lining to Dad having Alzheimer’s and being stuck in here was that I never got lost in places like this anymore. Neither did Margot, apparently, even if she did pause in front of the wrong door for a moment. But there I went, making assumptions again. Maybe it wasn’t the wrong door, just the wrong time for it.
Margot had a quiet and subdued quality I hadn’t seen from her before. That could have been a symptom of our limited interaction, but only a blind man wouldn’t notice that the sparkle in her eyes had dulled to practically nothing. Something about this place in particular had her pushed farther down than I usually dared to tread. A strange lightness welled up, buoying me along with it. I refused to let her flounder alone.
“So, I want you to be ready to duck.” I nudged her arm with an elbow. “Quack, quack.”
“Duck?” Margot blinked.
“Yeah.” I grinned, and her lips answered with the halfway kind. “Dad’s got Telekinesis.”
Her mouth made a little round O and her eyes went wide. They glittered inquisitively, that sparkle back. I smiled. She looked away, seemingly at nothing just as we turned the corner into Dad’s room, then Margot promptly tripped over a fallen picture frame. I caught her, of course. Vampires don’t have epic reflexes for nothing. I felt like a big hero at that moment instead of dragging my zero-sum self-image behind me like a ball and chain. That tiny rescue unshackled me for once. I wanted to get used to the feeling.
“Lane?” Dad scratched his head, which was partially obscured from view by the collection of objects hovering in the air around him.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m here.”
“Well, it’s about time.” He shook his head like it weighed as much as his old ‘57 Chevy SS. A can of shaving cream bounced in the air near his left shoulder, bumping into a black plastic comb. “You almost missed your curfew again.”
“Sorry, Dad.” I shrugged, wondering why my shoulders and arms didn’t move much. Then I remembered—Margot still rested in them.
“Well, you made it. Come on in, you two. No need for me to tell Mom you cut it close.” Dad shrugged exactly the same way I did. All the objects lifted for a moment, then settled again into their holding pattern. Dad had used his Telekinesis as an entertainer, making hundreds of people happy every night back when he was my age. Well, not my actual age, but the age I’d look forever. Twenty-three.
“Yeah, Dad. I did.” I’d gotten so much from him, and this damn disease kept taking all our common pieces away one by one. I blinked, then felt a touch on my cheek, surprisingly soothing and cool.
“Lane?” Margot’s fingertips came away damp.
“Yeah?” I managed to keep any more tears behind my eyes.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” She turned her head and grinned at my father.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” I set her down beside me, then stood up straight. “Dad, this is Margot Malone. Margot, this is my dad, Ken Meyer.”
“Hello.” Dad moved a bottle of Listerine away from his stubbly face, peering at Margot like a bird who’d found something shiny. He was all there for that inspection, too. The vacancy that made regular appearances in his eyes as the disease progressed was out for the moment. “How long have you and Lane been dating?”
“Oh, tonight’s the first time we’ve gone out together, Mr. Meyer.” She cocked her head to the side and then giggled. “But I’ve been interested in seeing him for a long time.”
“Really?” When Dad smiled, it was like some of the light in Margot’s eyes caught on in his. I couldn’t remember seeing him this happy since we had him out for the day on his and Mom’s fortieth wedding anniversary. “And what are your plans after high school?”
I froze. I’d known from the beginning that Dad’s Alzheimer’s had him doing a Time Warp. One of the reasons Mom always called me in was the coincidence that made it so I’d always look like he remembered I should. I acted like it too, but that part was on purpose. If Margot corrected Dad, all his toiletries would go flying, likely at her face, and I couldn’t warn her not to without setting him off.
“Oh, a couple of years at college, then an internship.” She grinned. “I’m going to be a reporter. Thanks for asking, Mr. Meyer.”
“Please, call me Ken.” My dad brushed past his toothpaste, his aftershave, and a bottle of Old Spice and took Margot’s hand in both of his. Then, he turned his head,
looking me right in the eye. “Hold on to this one, sonny boy. She’s a keeper.”
I stood there, watching silently as all of Dad’s toiletry items floated gently back through the bathroom door to their proper places around the sink. He puttered around, offering Margot some tea and saltine crackers from his bedside table. She declined, of course, telling him I’d taken her out to dinner. After that she fell smoothly into the patterns and patter of pretended mortality in a way that reminded me of Jack. She had something in common with my rival; both had lived as vampires before the Reveal. I’d never have managed. I sucked at pretending.
When Dad told me he’d better go to bed, and to come back right away after walking Margot home, I knew the nursing staff wouldn’t have any more trouble with him that night. He shuffled off into the bathroom, running the water as he loaded his toothbrush with paste and tumbled mouthwash into a tiny cup.
On the way out of the room, Margot picked up the picture she’d tripped over, setting it on the dresser by the door. She grinned softly, then took my hand as we entered the hall. She didn’t hold it long, just enough for a reassuring squeeze. It felt strangely empty when she let go. After that, she busied herself with her handbag, doing nothing in particular with the strap.
I waved at the nurses, listening to our footsteps making hollow sounds in the hall like water knocking against the hull of a small boat. And I went through the motions of checking out with Jan, tucking my ID away in my pocket instead of bothering with my wallet. Then I waited just outside the door until Margot emerged before heading back to the hotel on the deserted street.
“How did you know?” I couldn’t look at her, afraid for some reason that something about her would blind me, be as impossible to gaze on as the sun. “How did you know to just roll with it like we were seventeen?”
“Because I’ve been there.” Margot’s voice was flatter than week-old soda. She didn’t say anything else. I let her clam up for almost a block.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No one ever asks a reporter questions.”
“Well, I just did.” I shrugged, then winced as I thought about Dad and me and how, if I hadn’t gotten turned, I’d get to look forward to a life like his down the road. I felt like the world’s biggest cheater. “Because reporters are people too. You don’t have to answer, though.”
“I know. And maybe that’s why I will.” She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t get better, you know. It just gets farther away. My mom was in there, ten, fifteen years ago. She thought I was seventeen, too. After a while, she thought I was her sister. Near the end, before she lost her speech, she thought I was her mother. And then, she was like an infant. I came here every night once that happened. But she didn’t last long after.”
“Mom can’t calm him down.” I shook my head. “Do you think it’s because he’s not seeing her? I mean, really seeing, I don’t know, her? Like he saw you and me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s a question the doctors will be able to answer someday.” Margot had a little shake in her voice. This time, I dared to look at her. And she was nothing like the sun. The tears on her face gleamed like diamonds or maybe stars. This time, I was the one reaching for them.
When I dropped my hand, she took it again. If I’d been really alive or had the energy to pretend I was, I might have blushed or flushed. Even though I wasn’t, my stomach contorted itself into knots. All the same, I felt an odd sense of calm in all the storms of dealing with such mortal problems.
Chapter Eight
I Only Drink Blood
I’d just stepped out of the shower. Yeah, vampires shower. We end up smelling like wherever we’ve been if we don’t, and Long Term Care Facility wasn’t my jam. I sat in the chair all hotel rooms seemed to have, the straight-backed kind they put in front of the desk, with a seat that looked cushioned but wasn’t.
The notes pouring from Irina’s violin would have made me sit down if I hadn’t already been on my keister. I’d heard her fiddling before, of course. In person, too. But listening to her play one of our original songs along with Dave and Pete had an entirely different effect. I’d written this whole song before the Night Creatures even formed, except the guitar solo. That had all been Matt’s creation, and it was Irina’s one weak point. She could handle the covers, but with the Night Creatures’ original work, it was mimicry of the most technical kind.
The worst part was, I knew what kind of musical magic Irina could do. I’d heard her up close and in person, pouring her heart and soul out through her instrument. And here she was, not doing that because she knew the stage would stop her Empathy from affecting the audience. I stood up, about to try putting the lyrics into the music, hoping that’d wake whatever part of Irina all that fire came from. The phone rang, and I almost snapped it in half.
“Lane?” I waved at the others to stop playing, then put the call on speaker.
“Yeah, Olivia?”
“Matt’s still in jail. His bail was super-high.”
“That’s totally unfair!”
“I know. I tried telling the judge that Matt wasn’t a flight risk because of the contest, but she didn’t want to hear it.”
“What about Jack, though? If he’s in there too, maybe the contest will get postponed.” I wasn’t sure the Gattos would like that, but at least I could argue that the Jack Steele Band didn’t win.
“But he’s not.” Olivia’s voice sounded jittery, more like what I recognized from during the semester than how she’d been over the month since I’d helped Fred in the Under and gotten more directly involved in the whole Tinfoil Hat pack and its Extramagus woes. “Jack got released on his own recognizance.”
“Well, I’ll call the Battle of the Band judges and let them know that—” Pete smacked his palm to his face, which snapped me out of the automatic and incongruent response I’d been in the middle of. “Wait. You said Jack is not in jail?”
“That’s what I said.” Olivia sighed. “I can call Mr. Ichiro and see if we should look into a discrimination case since Jack’s white and Matt’s not. That’d take months, though.”
“Well, that’s just amazeballs, with an extra helping of awesome sauce on top.” It wasn’t. “I’ll tell Matt to talk to Mr. Ichiro some other time.”
“Sorry, I’m just lawyer-lite instead of the real thing.” Olivia’s words had Irina frowning and shaking her head.
“Hey, you actually tried helping a literal band of vampires.” I nodded at Irina, glad Olivia couldn’t see how close I was to tearing up. “You’re the coolest lawyer-lite owl-girl I know.”
“Tell it to the cat.” Her words had my head jerking back in confusion.
“Isn’t the saying ‘tell it to the judge,’ though?” I scratched my head.
“Yeah. Sorry. These meds wreck my brain.” I heard her vaguely hooty yawn come across the line.
“Listen, get off the Ritalin and catch a nap, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Sorry again, Lane. Bye.” The phone beeped as she disconnected. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I said, “Take it from the top again.”
This time, when they did, I joined in.
Hearing me sing and play rhythm guitar along with the others the second time through had done the trick. For a while there, I’d been worried Irina just didn’t get what our music was about. She’d spent four years in Boston, after all, only reluctantly coming back to Providence and facing her extrahuman past because her grandpa needed help. Finally satisfied with the practice, I’d been about to call it quits and tell our non-undead understudy to go get some sleep. But when I took a breath, something happened.
It was like the night I’d been turned after I blacked out. I’d caught a scent from out in the hall apparently, because when I came to my senses, that was where I stood. The wheels on the room service cart squeaked like nails on a chalkboard at the far end of the hall. I took one step toward it and the service elevator it waited for. At least, I thought it was only one step.
I was
next to the bellhop, a lady in red and black I’d never met before. She looked nothing like Della Dawn, but the scent coming off her was all my ex-girlfriend and more. My mouth was open, fangs bared, head bending toward her as she stood with her back pressed to the still-closed elevator door. She wore a name tag. I only know because I remember smelling the nickel. Everything in that moment was scent and the rush of this woman’s rapidly increasing heartbeat.
My teeth clicked together when the fist met my jaw. The punch would have killed me if I’d been alive. As it was, it broke my neck. I couldn’t bite anyone like that unless they fell on my fangs. The pain had killed my appetite at any rate. I heard another smack and crack as I toppled to the garish paisley carpet.
Above me, Nox Phillips was putting her foot down after connecting it with the back of Dave’s head. My usually reserved bassist snarled, diving at the bellhop again until Nox landed a chop across his jaw, dislocating it. He went down across my legs with a grimace.
Nox continued her movements, as fluid as a dancer but a million times more lethal. Watching her spar with Pete was like watching an old wire-fu movie, except real and wireless. I remembered that they’d both trained at the Cherry Blossom School, and it looked like awesome sauce on both of them. Pete had those enhanced vampire reflexes, but Nox was another kind of creature altogether. Her hair was slicked back with water, which meant she had her Kelpie pelt on. The enchanted item gave her extra strength, speed, and water magic straight outta Faerie. She’d also have been able to shape-shift and trounce Pete with no trouble at all, but the hall was too small for horses, magical or otherwise.
Pete’s palm struck Nox in the chest, and she went down. He covered her, going straight for the throat. Shifter blood tastes gamy, but by that point, Pete’s hunger had taken over. A blue light, faint under the fluorescents overhead, surrounded Nox, and the carpet got soggy and slick a moment later. Then an enraged howl filled the hall and my ears.
