It didn't take three seconds to turn to mist once his bedroom door was closed, and Ashe was zooming upward and under doors—twice—to get outside. His father was still on the phone with Marcus DeLuca.
"We'll pick Nathan up on the way to Harold's and call if we find anything," Aedan said and snapped his cell closed. Ashe fully intended to ride along invisibly with his father.
"We're going to get Nathan, and then we'll go to Harold's," Aedan poked his head through the kitchen door to let Adele know. "Make sure the doors are secure," he added before climbing into the SUV. Radomir settled on the passenger seat and Ashe misted inside before Radomir shut his door. The garage door closed behind them as Ashe watched, only wondering then how it was that he could see and hear while he was mist. Giving up the conundrum after only a moment or two, he gave a mental shrug, grateful that he could do those things.
Hovering behind Nathan's head later after Nathan slipped into the back seat, Ashe watched as his father drove down the narrow dirt track leading to Old Harold's house. Harold had never bothered to put gravel down around his home. He didn't drive much, preferring to walk or run everywhere. Vampires could and did run—quite fast, actually, when they wanted.
"Do you have the code?" Radomir asked as he, Aedan and Nathan stood outside Old Harold's garage door later.
"We have the code to the garage," Aedan said. "We can knock down the inside doors if necessary." He rang the doorbell next to the keypad. And rang it again. When there was no answer on the third try, Aedan punched in a code. The garage door lifted readily on well-oiled tracks. Ashe would have drawn in a breath if possible while turned to mist; the inside door into Old Harold's upper floor was hanging loose on its hinges.
"Claws out," Radomir ordered. Ashe was shocked as perilously sharp, foot-long claws grew on all three vampires' hands. Ashe, feeling shaky even as invisible mist, followed along behind as all three vampires, alert for any sound or movement, crept through the house. There was no light to see and nothing there to warrant the claws, so all were retracted quickly. Somehow, Ashe's night vision had greatly improved. He could see much better in the dark, now. Perhaps it was the bat in him, tiny as it was.
They didn't have to go far, as it turned out. Radomir found what he was searching for in Harold's aboveground sitting area. A pile of ash lay there in the shape of a headless man. Disturbed, Ashe wanted to fly away and stare at the same time.
"Head over here," Aedan found a second, smaller dusting of ash. Nathan cursed while Radomir remained silent, examining everything around the body before sniffing through the room.
"I believe he knew the one that killed him. Harold likely allowed his visitor inside the home and led him into this room, where the murder took place. Afterward, the back door was knocked down when the perpetrator rushed to get away. Perhaps he wasn't strong enough to break down a steel garage door, so he opened it with the button and closed it the same way. The button is near enough to the door to get out if you hurry."
"Ashe does it all the time; he and Sali make a game of it," Aedan agreed. Ashe shifted his mist uncomfortably at the sound of his own name.
"I will do some sniffing in the garage, then." Radomir walked toward the broken door.
"Will you recognize this scent again?" Nathan asked Radomir later, after Radomir searched the garage.
"A werewolf was certainly here," Radomir observed, "but the scent is strange. As if it has been mixed with something else to nearly destroy the scent, somehow. I don't know that I could truly connect it with anyone."
"Pat Roberts' disappearance could certainly be connected," Nathan suggested.
"Of course, and we will demand to see his home," Radomir inclined his head in agreement. "But that will still not guarantee that I can distinguish the scents. I wonder how this was accomplished." The Enforcer was definitely puzzled over the scent.
"Let's go to Marcus and let him know. He may have a way to get into Pat's house," Aedan walked out of Old Harold's garage. Ashe waited outside the house as Nathan closed the door. Silently, sadly, Ashe said good-bye to Old Harold.
"So, he's dead, then?" Marcus asked later, standing in his brightly lit kitchen.
"Yes. There is some scent there, likely werewolf, but it is confused, somehow," Radomir stated flatly. Ashe, hovering over his father's head, desperately wanted to drop onto his father's shoulders and hug him. He would certainly be in trouble if he did that, so he held himself away and watched while Sali's father paced.
"We have nothing on Pat," Marcus growled. "Message after message left on his cell and no reply. We'll go over there now, but Micah and I went earlier. There's no sign of him."
"I only wish to get the scent," Radomir said.
"Then come. The autopsy can be performed afterward. Mr. Winkler and the doctor are at the O'Neill's now, but they know things might be put off for a little while." Once again, Ashe misted inside his father's SUV, but the vehicle was becoming crowded. Marcus climbed into the back seat and rode with Nathan. Ashe was hovering in the cargo area as his father drove to Pat Roberts' farm.
"It looks as if he hasn't been home for at least two days," Marcus observed, once they were all inside Pat's small farmhouse. It only held one bedroom, a kitchen, the small sitting room and a bath, with no lower level. Ashe had spent all his life in a home where most of the rooms were below ground. He felt exposed, somehow, in Pat Roberts' house.
"I can't tell," Radomir was sniffing around the house. "This makes things so much more difficult."
"How did Harold die?" Marcus thought to ask.
"Beheading," Aedan growled. Marcus didn't reply; he merely nodded. "Old Harold didn't kill that boy," Aedan said. "You don't know what he was—who he was—before. I promised not to tell while he was alive. But since he's dead, now," Aedan didn't finish.
"Then who was he?" Marcus demanded.
"How good are you with Roman history?" Aedan asked.
"Not good," Marcus admitted.
"Wealthy Roman families at times employed Greek tutors for their children. Harold was a Greek scholar teaching language and mathematics nearly a thousand years ago. He cared for the children he taught. You never knew that he might have taught the children of Cloud Chief Greek and Latin. Better than anyone else, more than likely. Yet he settled for being a janitor and cleaning the school at night, before helping Nathan and me guard the perimeter. Harold would never harm any child from this community. It wasn't in him." Aedan shook his head.
"And now he's dead. Just like that." Marcus flung up a hand. "If Pat did this, I promise I'll kill him myself." Ashe wanted to shiver at Marcus DeLuca's words. "Come on, the doctor's waiting." They trooped toward Aedan's SUV. Ashe had no desire to be anywhere near when they cut into James's body, so he misted home instead.
"Ashe, are you in there?" Adele was banging on Ashe's bedroom door when Ashe misted inside the house. Hurriedly he slipped under the door, materializing immediately and opening the door, feigning a yawn.
"Sorry, Mom, I fell asleep," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Ashe felt guilty for lying to his mother, but he'd had no desire to stay behind and miss the chance to learn what happened to Old Harold.
"Your father called a few minutes ago. Old Harold's dead."
"Mom, that's awful."
"I know, honey." Adele pulled Ashe into a tight hug.
* * *
"Who cleaned?" Sali began complaining the moment he set foot inside the school Wednesday morning. It smelled strongly of disinfectant and that offended every student's nose, but the werewolves most of all. Old Harold had somehow struck a balance that wasn't overpowering when he used cleaning agents.
"Don't know, but I don't like it much," Ashe agreed. The one thing he could say was at least the trash was emptied and the floor looked clean again. He still felt bad about Old Harold, especially after his father explained who the old vampire really was. Ashe heaved a weary sigh. He could have asked Harold so many questions, and now that opportunity was lost forever. News of Harold's death was all over schoo
l, giving students yet another topic for their daily gossip. Ashe itched to ask Sali if he knew what the autopsy revealed. His chance came when they sat down in Transformational Arts.
"Did you hear anything? From the doctor?" Ashe whispered, kicking his book bag beneath the desk.
"Yeah. I wasn't supposed to, but I sneaked halfway down the hall so I could listen while they talked in the kitchen," Sali whispered back. "Dude, you cannot say anything. Promise."
"Promise," Ashe agreed.
"They said James's heart exploded. Like a bomb or something. Dude, that's just not natural."
"You're kidding. That's not possible. Are you sure you heard right?" Ashe couldn't believe what Sali was saying.
"I heard it, all right. Just don't tell, okay? Dad will be mad for sure."
"Mrs. Rocklin's coming," Ashe hissed and students rushed for seats as the class quieted.
* * *
"Honey, Denise says the witch will be here tomorrow to renew the concealment spells. Denise will be going out with her, so Sharon O'Neill, Wynn's mother, will pick you up after school."
"Okay," Ashe nodded and stared at his plate. He'd eaten two pork chops; he couldn't help himself. Maybe he was growing again, besides being able to turn. "Mom?" Ashe looked up at his mother.
"What, hon?" Adele asked.
"What happened to Old Harold? Did Dad say anything?" Ashe shivered, remembering the piles of ash in the floor from the previous evening. More and more he recalled that his dad might die the same way, leaving nothing behind except a scattering of grayish dust.
"It's not something I want to talk about right now," she said. "Finish your dinner; I'll wash up." She lifted her plate and walked to the kitchen sink. Ashe noticed she hadn't eaten much—perhaps she was thinking the same as Ashe.
"Mom, where did my name come from? Why did you choose it?"
"Your dad picked it out. Said it was from someone he knew."
"Oh."
"We're planning a service for James on Sunday. There'll be a smaller one afterward for Old Harold."
"Mom, we shouldn't be going to either one. Both of them should still be here."
"I know, honey. But we can't pull them back. We have to go on without them."
"Yeah. I'm done, Mom." Ashe took his plate to the sink.
"Any homework?"
"Only a little. And I wanted to start kicking around ideas for the essay contest."
"That's a good idea. The end of the school year is almost here. It's getting away from us, isn't it?"
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"What happens to the essays after we turn them in? I've never gotten one back."
"Well, all the teachers vote on the winners. Ben Billings keeps them in a file somewhere, I think. Copies are sent back to the winners' parents. Jamie Waters' mother got a copy last year."
"But that's a copy and not the original?" Ashe persisted.
"I saw a copy, yes. Why are you so curious about this?"
"No reason. Sali wants to win this year, because his dad says he can buy a cell phone if he wins."
"Is that what this is about? You want us to promise a cell phone if you win?" Adele smiled at Ashe.
"Mom, a cell would be great."
"If you win, I'll mention it to your father."
* * *
"Sali, did your dad say anything about Old Harold?" Sali called later, while Ashe wrote and then crossed through potential essay subjects. His notebook was now littered with words obliterated forcefully with Ashe's favorite pen.
"No, dude. Even Marco asked, and Dad wouldn't tell him. He just clammed up and wouldn't talk."
"Dang." Ashe marked out human interaction, his pen nearly going through the paper when the notebook slipped on his knee. He'd braced it against his leg with one hand while holding the cordless in the other.
"But your dad and Cori's dad are supposed to plow the garden tomorrow night," Sali offered what little information he had.
"It was supposed to be done last night," Ashe pointed out.
"Yeah. I figure we'll be planting on Saturday, since James's funeral is Sunday."
"Old Harold's service is right after."
"Dude, I don't know if I want to go to that."
"Suit yourself, but you might learn some things you didn't know before."
"You going?"
"Yeah."
"I'll come, then."
"Okay. Did you finish your English homework?" Ashe knew Sali was probably stalling for time. He hated English.
"Not yet."
Ashe realized Sali's mother was listening when she told Sali to hang up the phone and do his homework. He figured Sali would ride him the following day about getting him in trouble. Ashe grinned and punched the off button on the cordless.
* * *
"Thanks for making Mom stand over me while I finished that book report on Huckleberry Finn, Sali poked Ashe in the ribs on their way to class the following morning.
"Come on, it was a good story," Ashe said.
"You already read it. It was easy for you," Sali grumped.
"I read it twice," Ashe grinned, knowing that would cause further retaliation. He wasn't wrong; Sali side-kicked him, nearly tripping afterward. "But the good news is," Ashe moved away from Sali, the kick hurt, "you can read The Hobbit for your last assignment."
"The Hobbit?" Sali made a face at Ashe.
"One of those books I loaned you last year. Haven't you opened that box yet? I carry all that stuff to your house, and it's probably still stuffed in your closet." Ashe poked a finger in Sali's ribs. Sali elbowed Ashe. Ashe stomped Sali's toe. Sali went after Ashe. They might have made it through the door of Transformational Arts if Principal Billings' wide body hadn't been blocking it.
"That's enough," he snarled. "Both of you, come with me." Sali's eyes were huge as he stared at Ashe. Ashe shrugged at his friend and fell in behind Principal Billings' sturdy body.
"Now, you will explain what this is about," Principal Billings demanded, once both boys were seated inside his office.
"Ashe poked me," Sali said right away.
"Because you haven't even looked at those books you borrowed from me last year," Ashe accused.
"I may have a bruise," Sali lift the hem of his shirt.
"Whiner," Ashe wrinkled his nose at Sali.
"Bookworm," Sali shot back.
"Principal Billings, I'm afraid there's something going on in eleventh-grade Math," Mr. Dodd, the history teacher poked his head inside the office.
"Stay here and try not to damage one another," Principal Billings snapped at Ashe and Sali before rushing out the door.
Sali grinned at Ashe. "It worked," he whispered. "Get to it, dude, you have five minutes, maybe." Ashe was up and hauling file drawers open as quickly as he could.
"Not here, these are old grade books." Ashe shoved the top drawer shut and opened the next one down. "Nope, not this one either," he said, finding folders of invoices for school expenditures. Shutting that one, Ashe moved down to the third drawer of the five-drawer cabinet. It failed to yield the desired paperwork. Ashe dug through both remaining drawers, then opened drawers in Principal Billings' desk. It wasn't there. "He must keep the file of essays at his house," Ashe muttered, shutting the last drawer with a thump and frowning at Sali. "He's coming!" Ashe shot around the Principal's desk and was sitting innocently in his seat when Principal Billings walked back inside.
"How many times do I have to tell them not to shift in class," Billings muttered as he sat in his leather chair. It creaked a little under his solid body. "Now, where were we?" Billings leveled a frown at Ashe and Sali.
"We promise not to do it again," Ashe said meekly, ducking his head.
"Besides, he won't be here next year," Sali said, jerking a thumb in Ashe's direction.
"True." Principal Billings suddenly seemed in a better mood. "Do this again and you'll have detention. Now get to class." Ashe and Sali scooted out before Billings could change his mind.
"Goo
d job." Ashe grinned at Cori when she sat beside him at lunch.
"It wasn't hard. If I turn, then idiot Jeremy has to turn, too," Cori buttered her roll before taking a bite. She was right; Jeremy Booth was a shapeshifting wildcat and couldn't stand that Cori was a larger cat when she turned. Usually they hissed and yowled at one another after shifting. Ashe figured Jeremy was too much of a coward to take it farther than that.
"And I didn't even get into trouble," Cori grinned. "Principal Billings already had two culprits in his office."
"I didn't find the essays," Ashe said, disappointment thick in his voice. "So Billings must have them at his house. That sucks."
"Yeah. I didn't think to look at the winners," Cori said. "This might give us some information on Randy that we didn't have before."
Ashe had gotten Sali and Cori on board with his plan on their way to school. Wynn's mother drove and she busily chatted with Wynn and Dori in the front seat while Ashe, Cori and Sali hatched their plan in the back. It had worked perfectly. "We won't have the chance to see it now, if Billings has all of them locked up at his house," Sali groused. He'd been just as curious as Cori, once Ashe pointed out that they might get something out of Randy's essay. Of course, Cori and Ashe held more information than Sali and didn’t intend to share.
"Yeah." Ashe made tracks in his mashed potatoes with the tines of his fork.
"Dude, you don't have enough there to reenact Close Encounters," Sali observed, tilting his head slightly to make the assessment. "And I'll eat it if you don't want it."
"You can have the potatoes, but I want the chicken." Ashe shoved his tray toward Sali, who happily accepted the offered mashed potatoes.
"You think we can ask to see the essays?" Cori said.
"You have English coming up, why don't you ask Mr. Harris?" Ashe suggested.
"I will," Cori nodded.
"Tell me what he says after school," Ashe said.
"Will do."
* * *
"Mr. Harris said they won't consider it, because it might tempt us to use the same subjects or benefit from the essays themselves. It's to discourage copying," Cori heaved an irritated sigh later as she, Ashe and Sali squeezed into the back seat of Sharon O'Neill's small import. At least they weren't forced to share a seat, like Dori and Wynn.
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