The instant they did that, Matt knew he’d made a mistake.
“You’re Matthew Jeffrey Honeycutt?”
Matt had no choice but to nod.
“Say yes or no, please.”
“Yes.” Matt could see inside the white car now. It was a stealth police car, one of those with lights inside, all ready to be fixed outside if the officers wanted to let you in on the secret.
“Matthew Jeffrey Honeycutt, you are under arrest for assault and battery upon Caroline Beula Forbes. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up this right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—”
“Didn’t you see those kids?” Matt was shouting. “You had to have seen one or two of them! Didn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Lean over and put your hands on the front of the car.”
“It’s going to destroy the whole town! You’re helping it!”
“Do you understand these rights—?”
“Do you understand what is going on in Fell’s Church?”
There was a pause this time. And then, in perfectly even tones, one of the two said, “We’re from Ridgemont.”
19
Bonnie decided, with seconds precious and seeming to stretch for hours, that what was going to happen was going to happen no matter what she did. And there was a matter of pride here. She knew that there were people who would laugh at that, but it was true. Despite Elena’s new Powers, Bonnie was the one most used to confronting stark darkness. She was somehow alive after all that. And very soon she would not be. And the way she went was the only thing left up to her.
She heard a glissando of screams and then she heard them come to a halt.
Well, that was all she could do for the moment. Stop screaming. The choice was made. Bonnie would go out, unbroken, defiant — and silent.
The moment she stopped shrieking Shinichi made a gesture and the ogre who had hold of her stopped carrying her to the window.
She’d known it. He was a bully. Bullies wanted to hear that things hurt or that people were miserable. The ogre lifted her so her face was level with Shinichi’s.
“Excited about your one-way trip?”
“Thrilled,” she said expressionlessly. Hey, she thought, I’m not so bad at this brave thing. But everything inside her was shaking at double time in order to make up for her stony face.
Shinichi opened the window. “Still thrilled?”
Now that had done something, opening the window had. She was not going to be smashed against glass until she broke it with her face and went sailing through the jagged bits. There wasn’t going to be pain until she hit the ground and nobody would know about that, not even her.
Just do it and get it over with, Bonnie thought. The warm breeze from the window told her that this — place — this slave-selling place — where customers were allowed to sift through the slaves until they found just the right one — was too highly airconditioned.
I’ll be warm, even if it’s just for a second or so, she thought.
When a door near them banged, Bonnie nearly jumped out of the ogre’s arms, and when the door to their own room banged open, she nearly jumped through her own skin.
You see? Something surged wildly through her. I’m saved! It only took a little of that brave stuff and now…
But it was Shinichi’s sister, Misao. Misao, looking gravely ill, her skin ashen, holding on to the door to hold herself up. The only thing about her that wasn’t grayed-out was her brilliant black hair, tipped with scarlet at the ends, just like Shinichi’s.
“Wait!” she said to Shinichi. “You never even asked about—”
“You think a little airhead like her would know? But have it your own way.” Shinichi seated Misao on the couch, rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. “I’ll ask.”
So she was the one inside the two-way mirror room, Bonnie thought. She looks really bad. Like dying bad.
“What happened to my sister’s star ball?” Shinichi demanded and then Bonnie saw how this thing formed a circle, with a beginning and an ending, and how, understanding this, she could die with true dignity.
“It was my fault,” she said, with a faint smile as she remembered. “Or half of it was. Sage opened it up the first time to open the Gate back on Earth. And then…”
She told them the story, as if it were one she’d never heard before, putting an emphasis on how it was she who had given Damon the clues to find Misao’s star ball, and it was Damon who then had used it to enter the top level of the Dark Dimensions.
“It’s all a circle,” she explained. “What you do comes back to you.” Then despite herself, she started to giggle.
In two strides, Shinichi was across the room and slapping her. She didn’t know how many times he did it. The first was enough to make her gasp and stop her giggling. Afterward her cheeks felt as swollen as if she had a very painful case of the mumps, and her nose was bleeding.
She kept trying to wipe it on her shoulder, but it wouldn’t stop. At last Misao said, “Ugh. Unfasten her hands and give her a towel or something.”
The ogres moved just as if Shinichi had given the order.
Shinichi himself was now sitting beside Misao, talking to her softly, as if he were speaking to a baby or a beloved pet. But Misao’s eyes, with their tiny flicker of fire in them, were clear and adult as she looked at Bonnie.
“Where is my star ball now?” she asked with dreadful gray intensity.
Bonnie, who was wiping her nose, feeling the bliss of not being handcuffed behind her back, wondered why she wasn’t even trying to think of a lie. Like, let me free and I’ll lead you to it. Then she remembered Shinichi and his damn kitsune telepathy.
“How could I know?” she pointed out logically. “I was just trying to pull Damon away from the Gate when we both fell in. It didn’t come with us. As far as I know, it got kicked in the dust and all the liquid spilled out.”
Shinichi got up to hurt her again, but she was only telling the truth. Misao was already speaking. “We know that didn’t happen because I am”—she had to pause to breathe—“still alive.”
She turned her ashen, sunken face toward Shinichi and said, “You’re right. She’s useless now, and full of information she shouldn’t have. Throw her out.”
An ogre picked Bonnie up, towel and all. Shinichi came around the other side.
“Do you see what you’ve done to my sister? Do you see?”
No more time now. Just a second to wonder if she really was going to be brave or not. But what should she say to show she was brave? She opened her mouth, honestly not sure whether what was coming out was a scream or words.
“She’s going to look even worse when my friends are done with her,” she said, and saw in Misao’s eyes that she’d hit her target.
“Throw her out,” Shinichi shouted, livid with fury.
And the ogre threw her out the window.
Meredith was sitting with her parents, trying to figure out what was wrong. She had finished her errands in record time: getting enlarged versions of the writing on the front of the jars made; calling the Saitou family to find that they would all be home at noon. Then she had examined and numbered the individual blow-ups of each character in the pictures that Alaric had sent.
The Saitous had been…tense. Meredith hadn’t been surprised since Isobel had been a prime, if entirely innocent, carrier of the kitsune’s deadly possessing malach. One of the worst casualties was Isobel’s own steady boyfriend, Jim Bryce, who had gotten the malach from Caroline and spread it to Isobel without knowing what he was doing. He himself had been possessed by Shinichi’s malach and had demonstrated all the hideous symptoms of Lesch-Nyhan Syndrome, eating away at his own lips and fingers, while poor Isobel had used dirty needles — sometimes the size of a child’s knitting needles — to pierce herself in more than thirty places, besides forking her tongue with scissors.
Isobel was out of the hospital and on the mend now. Still, Meredith was bewildered. She
had gotten approval of the cards with enlarged, individual characters off the jars from the older Saitous — Obaasan (Isobel’s grandmother) and Mrs. Saitou (Isobel’s mother) — not without a good deal of argument in Japanese over each character. She was just getting into her car when Isobel had come running out of the house with a bag of Post-it Notes in her hand. “Mother did them — in case you needed,” she gasped in her new, soft, slurring voice. And Meredith had taken the notes from her gratefully, murmuring something awkward about repayment.
“No, but — but may I have a look at the blow-ups?” Isobel had panted. Why was she panting so hard? Meredith wondered. Even if she’d run from the top floor all the way following Meredith — that wouldn’t account for it. Then Meredith remembered: Bonnie had said Isobel had a “jumpy” heart.
“You see,” Isobel said with what looked like shame and a plea for understanding, “Obaasan is really almost blind now — and it’s been so long since Mother was in school…but I take Japanese classes right now.”
Meredith was touched. Obviously, Isobel had felt it bad manners to contradict an adult when they were in earshot. But there, sitting in the car, Isobel had gone through every card with a blown-up character, writing a similar, but definitely different character on the back. It had taken twenty minutes. Meredith had been awed. “But how do you remember them all? How do you ever write to each other?”
she had blurted, after seeing the complicated symbols that differed only by a few lines.
“With dictionaries,” Isobel had said, and had for the first time given a little laugh.
“No, I’m serious — to write a very proper letter, say, don’t you use Thesaurus and Spell Check and—”
“I need those to write anything!” Meredith had laughed.
It had been a nice moment, both of them smiling together, relaxed. No problems.
Isobel’s heart had seemed just fine.
Then Isobel had hurried away and when she was gone Meredith was left staring at a round circle of moisture on the passenger seat. A tear. But why should Isobel be crying?
Because it reminded her of the malach, or of Jim?
Because it would take several plastic surgeries before her ears would have flesh on them again?
No answer that Meredith could think of made sense. And she had to hurry to get to her own home — late.
It was only then that Meredith was stricken by a fact. The Saitou family knew that Meredith, Matt, and Bonnie were friends. But none of them had asked about either Bonnie or Matt.
Strange.
If she had only known how much stranger her visit with her own family would be…
20
Meredith usually found her parents funny and silly and dear. They were solemn about all the wrong things like, “Make sure, honey, that you really get to know Alaric — before — before—” Meredith had no doubts about Alaric at all, but he was another of those silly, dear, gallant people, who talked all around things without getting to the point.
Today, she was surprised to see that there was no cluster of cars around the ancestral home. Maybe people had to stay home to fight it out with their own children. She locked the Acura, conscious of the precious contents given by Isobel, and rang the doorbell. Her parents believed in chain locks.
Janet, the housekeeper, looked happy to see her but nervous. Aha, Meredith thought, they have discovered that their dutiful only child has ransacked the attic.
Maybe they want the stave back. Maybe I should have left it back at the boardinghouse.
But she only realized that things were truly serious when she came into the family room and saw the big La-Z-Boy deluxe lounging chair, her father’s throne: empty.
Her father was sitting on the couch, holding her mother, who was sobbing.
She had brought the stave with her, and when her mother saw it, she broke into a fresh burst of tears.
“Look,” Meredith said, “this doesn’t have to be so tragic. I’ve got a pretty good idea of what happened. If you want to tell me about how Grandma and I really got hurt, that’s your business. But if I was…contaminated in some way…”
She stopped. She could hardly believe it. Her father was holding out an arm to her, as if the somewhat rank condition of her clothes didn’t matter. She went to him slowly, uncomfortably, and let him hug her regardless of his Armani suit. Her mother had a glass with a few sips left of what looked like Coke in front of her, but Meredith would bet it wasn’t all Coke.
“We’d hoped that this was a place of peace,” her father orated. Every sentence her father spoke was an oration. You got used to it. “We never dreamed…” And then he stopped. Meredith was stunned. Her father didn’t stop in the middle of an oration. He didn’t pause. And he certainly didn’t cry.
“Dad! Daddy! What is it? Have kids been around here, crazy kids? Did they hurt somebody?”
“We have to tell you the whole story from that time long ago,” her father…said.
He spoke with such despair that it wasn’t anything like an oration. “When you were…all attacked.”
“By the vampire. Or Grandfather. Or do you know?”
Long pause. Then her mother drained the contents of her glass and called, “Janet, another one, please.”
“Now, Gabriella—” her father said, chiding.
“’Nando — I can’t bear this. The thought that mi hija inocente…”
Meredith said, “Look, I think I can make this easier for you. I already know…well, first, that I had a twin brother.”
Her parents looked horrified. They clung together, gasping. “Who told you?” her father demanded. “At that boardinghouse, who could know—?”
Calming down time. “No, no. Dad, I found out — well, Grandpa talked to me.” That was true enough. He had. Just not about her brother. “Anyway, that was how I got the stave. But the vampire that hurt us is dead. He was the serial killer, the one who killed Vickie and Sue. His name was Klaus.”
“You thought that there was only one vampire?” her mother got out. She pronounced the word the Hispanic way, which Meredith always found more scary.
Vahm-peer.
The universe seemed to start moving slowly around Meredith.
“That’s just a guess,” her father said. “We don’t really know that there was more than the very strong one.”
“But you know about Klaus — how?”
“We saw him. He was the strong one. He killed the security guards at the gate with one blow each. We moved to a new town. We hoped you would never have to know you had a brother.” Her father brushed his eyes. “Your grandfather spoke to us, right after the attack. But the next day…nothing. He couldn’t talk at all.”
Her mother put her face in her hands. She only lifted it to call, “Janet! Another, por favor!”
“Right away, ma’am.” Meredith looked to the housekeeper’s blue eyes for the solution to this mystery and found nothing — sympathy, but no help. Janet walked away with the empty glass, blond French braid receding.
Meredith turned back to her parents, so dark of eye and hair, so olive of skin color. They were huddling together again, eyes on her.
“Mom, Dad, I know that this is really hard. But I’m going after the kind of people who hurt Grandpa, and Grandma, and my brother. It’s dangerous, but I have to do it.” She dropped into a Taekwondo stance. “I mean you did have me trained.”
“But against your own family? You could do that?” her mother cried.
Meredith sat down. She had reached the end of the memories that she and Stefan had found. “So Klaus didn’t kill him like Grandmother. He took my brother with him.”
“Cristian,” wailed her mother. “He was just un bebé. Three years old! That was when we found the two of you…and the blood…oh, the blood…”
Her father got up, not to orate, but to put his hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “We thought it would be easier not to tell you — that you wouldn’t have any memories of what was happening when we came in. And you don’t, do y
ou?”
Meredith’s eyes were filling with tears. She looked to her mother, trying to silently tell her she couldn’t understand this.
“He was drinking my blood?” she guessed. “Klaus?”
“No!” cried her father as her mother whispered prayers.
“He was drinking Cristian’s, then.” Meredith was kneeling on the floor now, trying to look up into the face of her mother.
“No!” cried her father again. He choked.
“La sangre!” gasped her mother, covering her eyes. “The blood!”
“Querida—” her father sobbed, and went to her.
“Dad!” Meredith went after him and shook his arm. “You’ve ruled out all the possibilities! I don’t understand! Who was drinking blood?”
“You! You!” her mother almost screamed. “From your own brother! Oh, el aterrorizar!”
“Gabriella!” moaned her father.
Meredith’s mother subsided into weeping.
Meredith’s head was whirling. “I’m not a vampire! I hunt vampires and kill them!”
“He said,” her father whispered hoarsely: “‘Just see she gets a tablespoon a week. If you want her to live, that is. Try a blood pudding.’ He was laughing.”
Meredith didn’t need to ask if they had obeyed. At her house, they had blood sausage or pudding at least once a week. She had grown up with it. It was nothing special.
“Why?” she whispered hoarsely now. “Why didn’t he kill me?”
“I don’t know! We still don’t know! That man with his front all dripping with bloodyour blood, your brother’s blood, we didn’t know! And then at the last minute he grabbed for the two of you but you bit his hand to the bone,” her father said.
“He laughed — laughed! — with your teeth clamped in him and your little hands pushing him away, and said, ‘I’ll just leave you this one, then, and you can worry about what she will turn out to be. The boy I’m taking with me.’ And then suddenly I seemed to come out of a spell, for I was reaching for you again, ready to fight him for both of you. But I couldn’t! Once I had you, I couldn’t move another inch. And he left the house still laughing — and took your brother, Cristian, with him.”
The Return: Midnight tvd-7 Page 16
