by D. R. Perry
“She wishes you were Tierney.” This time, Fake Stephanie’s attack is totally obvious.
“Don’t blame her one bit.” I smile as I block. It’s working.
“You hate her.” The fake snarls and rushes at me.
“No way. Love her like a sister.” I just stand there, smiling because I just saw the fake’s eyes change color from storm-gray to sky-blue. It’s almost over.
Fake Stephanie drops the saber, jaw slack. Her hands twitch. Something drops from the ceiling. No, someone.
Before I know it, the real Stephanie is sweeping up the dropped saber. She uses it to behead her double in one fell swoop. Told you she was awesome.
The head reverts back to its Deep One appearance before it hits the wet concrete. Stephanie is about to put down the saber, seemingly oblivious to everything else going around us.
“Heads up!” One of Raven’s knives flies past us. I manage to track it and see it bounce off the fake king’s hide. Still, he hisses.
“Oh, my.” Stephanie blinks and casts her gaze around the room. Then she looks at my rapier. “You need to get up there.”
“But Maya—”
“I’ll help her. Your sword’s got magic on it.”
And she’s right. And without that red and black energy blazing along the metal edge, I’d have died for sure. Baba Yaga’s making good on her end of the bargain, so at least something is going right.
I sprint toward Frankie and skid to a stop, almost smacking into him. “Hit me with the flying powder, buddy.”
“Okay.”
But just as he does, I feel a trickle of something that’s too thick to be water on my leg. I look down. My right leg is covered with slime. The splatter pattern makes me think Fake Stephanie got me with it when she was going down. A parting shot.
I open my mouth, about to tell Frankie never mind and hand my sword off for someone else to go up in the air. But it’s too late. He’s sprinkled me seven times already. So, there I am, flying in a glorified wastewater treatment hub with bad-luck slime all over my pants.
And I thought the undead life would be eternally boring.
Flailing around in the air sucks. I don’t know how birds do it, honestly. Probably without bad-luck slime. I see Sparky dog-paddling. Or salamander-paddling. If the little guy is trying to get through all that space and break bubbles, the least I can do is help. Leora’s in one of these. I take a swing at one with the saber and it hits, cutting through like butter.
The occupant falls like a star. It’s Leora.
“Catch her!”
The last person I expect responds to my call for help. Mother Pickering. She pauses in her spell-casting to do it, too. And I realize that the whole time, she’s been holding off hordes of Deep Ones, keeping them away from Maya and me as we battled the body doubles.
Leora crashes down on her, and they both go down in a tumble. Because of this, a Deep One finds a way through and slimes them both. Mother pushes Leora away and gets swarmed by a mob of angry Deep Ones. She doesn’t stand a chance, and there’s nothing I can do.
But Leora’s got an ace up her sleeve. She grasps her charm bracelet and calls out for Baba Yaga.
In the meantime, I slash open another bubble. It’s no one I recognize, but they sure look weirded out. I don’t blame them for hiding in a corner until this is all over. Sparky pops another one. And this time, I definitely recognize the person inside, who must have gotten snatched that very night.
“Kayleigh!” I call out to my ex. “Heads up!”
She doesn’t land on her feet exactly. More like on all fours. But the hunter recovers fast and does what her daddy trained her for—taking out monsters. She’s got guns, so having her join the fray doesn’t turn the tides of this battle, but it makes up for Mother Pickering getting slimed.
I take a stab at another bubble, but I miss this time. Stupid slime. Looking down, I see that Maya’s flagging. Stephanie’s been helping, but my would-be girlfriend is just no match for even the fake King DeCampo. Well, there’s a good reason he’s the vampire king of Providence, after all. Even his copy kicks serious ass.
The bubble I was trying to get open comes in range again. I slash but don’t have time to look because a scream from below pierces me in the heart. I have to see what’s going on down there.
It’s Frankie. He’s slapping Post-its on a gaggle of Deep Ones who broke through while Mother was down and before Kayleigh joined the fray. Leora’s there with backup, swinging what looks like Baba’s wooden spoon. It glows with red and white light and decimates every enemy in front of her. The hut’s here too, now. And so is the person who fell from my last bubble.
It’s Father Pickering, and he looks to be in rough shape. That bubble I got him out of was turning brown, too. Which probably means he was almost dead. It also means the guy I dealt with back at the house was a Deep One, and we left Levi and Sarah with him. Of course. That’s how they knew to look for Mother’s van. And why there are more bubbles up here than I expected. As Father falls to earth, I scream, “Incoming!”
Baba’s hut spins, the motion carrying it sideways just in time to break Father’s fall on its thatched roof. The poor man sits up, and the first thing he sees is his wife, covered in slime and fighting anyway. He looks up at me, then points to two new-looking bubbles.
I get the message and slash at one. Sparky understands too, and he has more success. The first bubble bursts, and Sarah sails through the air. She keeps her head and uses her magic to push off the ground, so she lands gently. Sarah Pickering sees her mother and screams, defiant as an eagle.
Jets of sea-foam light shoot from her hand, blasting with more power than anyone else in the room. She’s still screaming as she walks forward. Deep Ones scatter in her wake. Sarah’s a prodigal talent in the magic department. But all she wants right now is her mother, as dysfunctional as that lady is.
I know from long experience as the stable friend that loving someone, especially a parent who is that toxic, will only hurt in the long run. But you can’t tell a person in the throes of that kind of love what it is and how to manage it. It’s like with addiction; only the affected can effect their escape. So I let them be and try for another bubble.
This time, it works. I free Levi. The kid touches the ground in an unprotected patch.
Frankie is now screaming because this is his worst nightmare come to life. Levi's in exactly the danger Frankie sacrificed his sanity or escape to keep him out of. He’s sprinting toward his brother, getting in front, between him and the Deep Ones. His hands are empty, too. I want to be down there, but it’s no use. I forgot how Esther turns this stuff off. And even without the levitating powder doing its thing, I’ve been slimed. I’d just klutz out.
Leora throws herself in front of Frankie. She screams out for Sparky, who’s changed into humanoid form in mid-air next to me. He holds out his hands, but their glow is still building because he used half his mojo on shapeshifting. He won’t have his blast ready in time.
Raven acts. They just stride up, full of purpose and the promise of doing major harm. Nobody else sees, but I have a special vantage point. It’s all bluff, even more so than back at the Pickering house. Raven’s out of throwing knives. They’re unarmed and defenseless, but willing to give up eternity to protect their fellow Lambs from yet another set of abuses.
My face is wet, my eyes so bleary I almost don’t see Mother and Father Pickering give each other that look again. You know, the one that made me sick before. Mother’s got her magic back, but it looks paler now, faint and underpowered. Father’s as unarmed as Raven and in twice as rough of shape. I see Sarah’s mouth form the words, “Mother, no,” but if she stops casting she’ll fall, and she knows it. That kid has a tactical mind.
The Deep ones meet them, and the couple is overwhelmed. I realize they’ll never get a chance to make amends or apologize.
But no. I understand. This final act is their apology. Sacrifice. And with it, at least in my book, damnation. Suicide ain�
�t painless when you’re Catholic. I’ve got no idea what the Pickerings believe in this day and age, but my own faith compels me to stop them. Not in spite of how awful they’ve been in the past but because of that. They’ll never find redemption for any of it if they go out like this right here and now.
There’s nothing I can do. The betrayal made by former loyalists incenses the Deep Ones to new heights. Their bloodlust is tangible, even from up here. Frankie, Levi, and Leora cling to each other. Raven stands in front of them like an eternal shield. Mother and Father Pickering get torn to pieces. I glance at Maya and Stephanie, horrified to find that they’re on the cusp of suffering a similar fate.
Something bumps my arm. I turn my head. It’s the last bubble. My sword slices through it with ease, and the real King DeCampo lands on the ground in a superhero pose, the back of his suit tearing as he flexes his muscles. He roars like a lion and smites his double with one clawed hand, cleaving the fake's head in two.
The hordes of Deep Ones stop in their tracks. Of course, their leader took on the guise of ours. I should have known. And if I’d only acted sooner, there wouldn’t be four orphans down there instead of one.
Guilt washes over me, tainting all my senses. It muffles Raven’s words as they negotiate new terms for the Pickerings so the family won’t lose their access to magic. I even hear them all agree that Lambs will only go to the Deep Ones if they consent, and any family member can choose to act as one, not only those with no magic.
And the guilt reddens my sight as I gaze down on Stephanie and King DeCampo, standing closer together than I’d ever have expected to see them get. Their Lazakhars glow on the ground where they fell during my duel. She picks them up, and he sets hers around her neck. Stephanie returns the favor.
Something dips in the air at my left. It’s Sparky. He’s starting to drift downward. I hope that means I’ll start descending soon, too. Except I already am down, in the emotional sense. There’s nothing I can do about it, either. I’d talk to a priest, but that’s impossible. The weight on my heart is so heavy I’m absolutely certain nothing can lift it, not even if I unlive for a million years.
Chapter Seventeen
When I touch ground again, my first impulse is to curl up and stay there. Vampires have the ability to sleep for ages, waking in new times. And at that moment, there’s nothing I’d rather do.
A hand drops on my shoulder.
“Tino, come on.” The warm voice reminds me of waking up on a Saturday morning in my old bedroom. “It’s time to go home.”
“I don’t deserve to, Maya.” Yeah, it’s her. She’s the only one here who has that kind of effect on me.
“We’re all responsible. Anyone could have jumped in and saved them.”
“I was the only one doing nothing.”
“Nuh-uh, mister.” I turn and see the salamander kid tugging on my sleeve. “Me too.”
And he’s right. I don’t want him to be. And he’s only a kid. I could just ignore him, but someone else won’t let me. A pair of shoes, scuffed all to hell and clearly second-hand, appear in my field of vision. The socks on the feet inside them came from my wardrobe.
“Hey, Tino.” It’s Frankie. “This really smart dude told me a thing. It changed my life. You wanna hear it?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t care. I’m gonna say it, anyway. You’re not alone.”
And I can’t stand it. My head sinks into my hands, shoulders heaving with sobs as blood tears stain my face and palms. Because I should be alone. I think that’s what I deserve. But if people only ever got what they think they deserved, if they treated people according to their worst experiences the world would be hell. If no one acted with compassion and mercy, everybody would be alone for a darker eternity than any vampire ever endured. And yeah, both the oddball kids are right. I can’t argue with the truth, so I don’t.
Instead, I let Maya take me home.
Well, she tries, at least, but it doesn’t work out the way we'd both like it to. Leora and Sparky get in Baba’s hut but pass us the message that the witch can’t transport us into any vampire’s lair. Something about territory and incompatible magic. And it's daylight outside. At least I know the kids are safe. Baba Yaga is scary, but she’d never harm those two.
Kayleigh and the sun-resistant Pickering siblings can leave, but all of us vampires have to wait out the rest of the day. And we’re hungry, of course. I pass my blood bags around, and we pass the time together. Just me and my girl. And my vampire mom. And our socially adept friend. And an ancient vampire king. Hey, I never said this life was normal.
It’s not so bad, hanging around with all of them. King DeCampo used to scare me so bad I thought of him as King Decapitate, so while we’re all there, I come out and tell him that.
Stephanie practically has kittens over that until she realizes the king’s laughing. Yeah, that’s right. He thinks it’s funny. And for months, she told me he’d likely Rage at the nickname. As it turns out, the vampire king of Providence is a pretty cool guy.
Raven really came through in all of this. On the night I met them, I tried very hard to come across the right way and be respectful to the king’s attaché. But I made assumptions, mostly by thinking of Raven as someone with a cushy job who’d never get their hands dirty to save their own life. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Also, I discovered that I consider my sire part of my family, like the older sister I never had. She’s the perfect vampire for me to look up to, a role model who’s been nothing but a good example and a source of support. I might not have chosen the vampire unlife if given the chance to refuse it, but Steph makes this easier than it would be without her. Her choices were limited too when she turned me, and she’s got more than enough compassion and decency to make up for that.
And then there’s Maya. What can I say? She’s amazing. Sure, her past is a complete mystery, and the few hints I’ve gotten don’t look anywhere near simple. But I’m taking a chance because she’s more than worth any risk.
Sunset comes, then dusk. We venture out into the streets of Providence, making our way toward that building on Weybosset Street. But something feels off, and I’m not sure what it is. King DeCampo steps up to the door and uses the secret knock. When the door opens, Shadow narrows his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?”
King DeCampo holds up his hand, showing the ring that tells anyone in the know that he’s a vampire king. Shadow nods.
“And which city should I tell our king you’re visiting from?”
“Warwick.” Raven steps forward. “Please address all questions and concerns to me. My king is weary from recent events.”
Before I can put my foot in my mouth and tell Shadow that this right here is the king of Providence and he’d better take a fucking knee, Maya takes my hand. She shows me the edges of cliffs, snakes with rattling tails and fangs dripping venom, bonfires, the sun. I send back a giant question mark. She responds with the business end of a knife meeting a back. Finally, I get it. We’ve been betrayed.
We’re let inside and led down the hall. And just like that, we’re presenting ourselves like we’re strangers. And actually, we are. None of them recognize us, though I don’t know how, and Maya is just as mystified.
Peligro eyeballs me warily, like he’s trying to remember who I am but can’t. Mrs. Kent stands on the edge of the dais, turning her nose up at Stephanie. Annie puts her back to Maya. Other familiar vamps I haven’t met fill the room. I look up at the throne and the figure sitting in it. Instead of shadows, it’s all lit up, bright enough for greasepaint.
“King Whitby will see you now.” Mrs. Kent steps to one side, and we see his face. And Whitby? He knows who we are, for sure. He stares at Stephanie, her body, not her face, gloating.
Maya and I hang back as Raven makes our formal introductions. We saved the entire city, not just for vampires, but all the supernaturals and mortals. Maybe we even saved the world. But none of it matters because our own people hav
e no idea.
Nobody remembers. At least, not here. It’s so bad, they’re denying us pretty much any of the respect we’ve earned. It’s not so bad for me, who didn’t have much to begin with. But for King DeCampo, Stephanie, and Raven, it’s awful. And Maya’s got no friends now.
Against the odds, I got a group together, and they came out with the upper hand against an enemy that outclassed us. I thought it was a huge, important accomplishment, too. Well, I guess we all did. In the big-picture sense, we were right. The Deep Ones were a true threat, and we weren't wrong to fight them.
But all along, Whitby had his own agenda—taking the throne. We ignored him in favor of chasing a more immediate danger, and he accomplished a feat with fundamentally more impact. We might have rescued a couple of powerhouses in one battle, but Whitby won a war we didn’t realize he was fighting and used a mysterious power we must learn to counter. His prize is this city.
We mingle, like vampires do when they’re visiting. The entire time, I’m overhearing whispers, mostly stuff about how this new guy can’t be much of a vampire king if he’s declared himself in a place like Warwick. A couple of times, they say King Whitby would have every right to attack us for setting up shop right on his kingdom’s border if we make any trouble.
This tells me that Whitby’s charade isn’t too well established, at least not yet. There’s no detail in the new background he somehow inserted into the brains of Providence’s vampire population. Raven must have guessed at that and chosen the Pickering House’s city as our territory because nothing was mapped out for it yet.
“He made some mistakes.” Stephanie’s leaning in to deliver this information like she did with DeCampo and Raven before getting to me.
“Really? I only see one.” I tell her my best guess.
“Good deduction, Tino.” She grins. “He didn’t make Providence his personal territory with the entire state as his declared kingdom, and that leaves us room to operate.”
“Why wouldn’t he do a thing like that? It sounds like the way to go.”
