The Otherworldlies

by Jennifer Anne Kogler

  Lindsey had braided her hair into two neat pigtails and was waiting on the screened-in porch for the guests to arrive. She came bounding across the lawn as soon as she caught sight of the McAllisters. San Juan Capistrano was alive with a warm breeze and the chirping of crickets.

  “Welcome to Casa de Lin,” she said, holding her arm out behind her as a means of presenting the house to her guests. “I hope you’re really hungry—my mom cooked enough to feed forty people.” She opened the screen and led them into the house. Mrs. McAllister’s heels clomped on the wooden floors.

  The Lin house was as pristine as it had been the last time the twins visited. Antique furniture and colorful rugs highlighted the living room. The dining room was awash with shiny maple and there were fresh flowers everywhere. If this was indicative of how vampire families lived, Mrs. McAllister thought, then they lived very well.

  The smell of spices and meat wafted from the kitchen. Mrs. Lin, looking as young and sprightly as ever, careened out of the kitchen wearing a ruffled apron.

  “Hello, McAllisters!”

  Her large oval eyes flashed warmth, and the heat of the kitchen had flushed her cheeks in a very becoming way. “I’m May,” she said. May Lin’s face matched the pristine interior of her house; there was nary a cranny or wrinkle. Vampires certainly did age well.

  “I’m Mary Lou,” the Commander said in her most gracious tone.

  “Hello again, Fern and Sam,” Mrs. Lin said genially. “You must be Eddie,” she said, looking at the oldest McAllister sibling. “I’ve heard so much about you.

  “Mike will be here any minute,” May continued. “Dinner is ready now and it’s no good cold, so you’d better head on in.”

  The McAllisters took a seat in the dining room. With its grandfather clock and maple table, the room was more Norman Rockwell than Bram Stoker. A lace runner and centerpiece of lilies divided the table down the middle.

  Carrying two platters in each hand, Mrs. Lin returned to the table and unloaded a heaping plate of vegetables and noodles, a dish of meat and nuts slathered in brown sauce, one punch bowl of soup, and another with scallops and more vegetables.

  Mr. Lin walked in through the doorway. He looked tired. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” he said, loosening his tie and sitting down at the end of the table. “I got caught at work.”

  “Always at work,” Mrs. Lin said, spreading her napkin on her lap. “You’d think he was married to the place.”

  “Maybe when they change the laws,” he said dryly. The Lins were so natural with each other and their guests, it was easy to forget that they were prominent Otherworldlies in their own right.

  Small talk persisted for the first few minutes of the meal. They spoke of Mrs. McAllister’s real estate business, the rising cost of tuition at St. Gregory’s, and how lackluster this year’s Swallow’s Day Parade had been. Once the ice had been broken so thoroughly that large chunks of it floated freely, Mrs. Lin began talking with a more serious tone.

  “Lindsey, Fern, and Sam have become such good friends,” Mrs. Lin began, spooning broccoli and scallops onto her plate, “we decided it was high time we all got together.”

  “May and I would be lying if we said we didn’t have ulterior motives for inviting you over,” Mr. Lin added, smiling at Fern.

  “Yes, well,” Mrs. McAllister said, “all of this has taken us by surprise. It’s been an adjustment. This isn’t the kind of thing you imagine can happen in real life.”

  “The Alliance must have extraordinary faith in you, Mary Lou, to let you in on all this and make you Fern’s guardian,” Mr. Lin said. “Eddie and Sam, too,” he said, not altering his dignified tone.

  “I’m going to say this as plainly as I can: What we’ve been hearing from the Alliance does not match up to what Lindsey has been telling us about Fern,” Mrs. Lin said.

  “Under normal circumstances, we’d never involve you in the inner politicking of the Alliance, but both May and I have started to question its actions of late. We decided, together, that we could not sit idly by and do nothing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lindsey disclosed all that had happened in the last couple months and we made a decision,” Mrs. Lin said.

  “The information we’re about to discuss is highly confidential. We hope that you’ll respect our wish to keep what we talk about from leaving this house.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. McAllister said, her eyes brimming with anticipation.

  “There’s a new memo circulating around the higher-ups in the Alliance detailing that claim number one-twenty-four has been officially dismissed,” Mr. Lin said.

  “I don’t understand,” Mrs. McAllister said.

  “Children who exhibit signs that suggest they might be Unusual receive a claim number in order to protect their identities should they turn out to be an Unusual. No one is certain who the Unusuals are because they were hidden across the globe soon after the storms hit, in the event the storms were a fulfillment of the prophecy.”

  The Lins continued to disseminate information as if they were teaching a class to bright pupils.

  “There have been over a hundred cases of people claiming to be Unusuals. Each claim is submitted to the Alliance’s investigation bureau and each case is pursued,” Mr. Lin said.

  “Because we do work as claim investigators, we’re privy to information before it’s released officially,” Mrs. Lin said, picking up where her husband left off.

  “What are you saying? That Fern is lying about her special powers? She’s never claimed to be part of this Extraordinary Eleven group.”

  “Unusual Eleven,” Mrs. Lin corrected Mrs. McAllister.

  “Whatever it’s called. It’s a label you people have put on her. Her powers have been getting stronger, not weaker. Why would her claim be dismissed?” Mrs. McAllister said.

  Fern saw headlights flash through the Lins’ front window. She looked out the front windowpane for any trace of the white sedan.

  “That’s exactly what we were wondering, Mary Lou,” Mrs. Lin said. “Who would want to make it look like Fern wasn’t part of the Unusual Eleven? And why? We believe Fern is an Unusual. She must be. She presents the most convincing case we’ve ever investigated. We believe the memo is false.”

  “You’ve investigated me?” Fern asked.

  “We have been involved in many such cases,” Mr. Lin said dismissively.

  Fern began to wonder exactly how many people were watching her at any given time. Between Mr. Bing, Mr. Summers, Vlad, and the Lins, she was probably being watched all the time.

  “We wouldn’t normally bring this up, because ultimately it does not matter who thinks Fern is part of the Unusual Eleven in the short term. That will take care of itself. But because tomorrow is April twenty-third, better known as St. George’s Day, we thought we might keep an eye on Fern.”

  “St. George’s Day?”

  “St. George’s Day is a dangerous day for Otherworldlies. And Normals, for that matter. People get carried away. Now, there have also been reports that Vlad has been caught and is in custody. So we don’t see any real threat, but Fern is an Unusual, which makes her a logical target of some sort of scheme. Since her claim was rejected, it doesn’t look like the Alliance is going to be providing Fern with any extra protection. One of us would like to be at your house, just for tomorrow, in case there’s any sign of trouble,” Mr. Lin said.

  “We’ll walk the kids to school and pick them up. I’ve already talked to Mr. Bing and he’ll be close by during school hours.” Mrs. Lin paused, reading the worry on Mrs. McAllister’s face. “It’s really just a precaution,” she said.

  “I really appreciate you telling me all this,” Mrs. McAllister said, still processing all this new information from the Lins. “But are you sure we shouldn’t contact the chief or something? I don’t quite understand this day, but if it’s as dangerous as you say . . .”

  “No, it’s best if we pretend you McAllisters aren’t privy to any
of this information.”

  Lindsey, Fern, and Sam were growing impatient.

  “Ma? Can I show Sam and Fern my room while you work out the details?”

  “Take your plates to the kitchen first,” Mrs. Lin said in a firm tone. Eddie asked to be excused to head to Kinsey Wood’s house to study. Mrs. McAllister agreed. Sam, Lindsey, and Fern rushed through the swinging door with their plates.

  When Fern had had only superficial knowledge of Lindsey as one of St. Gregory’s most popular students, she had imagined her room filled with an impressive collection of memorabilia: edgy pop posters, avant-garde CDs, corkboards full of adoring-friend photos. In fact, Lindsey’s room was almost austere. The bed frame was dark wood and matched the wide dresser. There were no wall decorations, no stacks of anything anywhere, and not even one picture frame. The room looked slightly more hospitable than a jail cell.

  Lindsey took a seat on her bed, careful not to mess the tidy order of the pillows. “Oh, yeah,” she said, able to tell that Sam and Fern were shocked by the stark contrast between her personality and room. “I don’t like clutter or bright colors. It’s a vampire thing.”

  Fern surprised herself by laughing out loud.

  “What’s so funny?” Lindsey asked defensively.

  “I don’t know,” Fern said, relaxing for the first time in several weeks. “I guess I kinda forgot that all the other vampires out there have weird habits too. You seem so normal at school.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life overcompensating, I guess,” Lindsey said, trying to lessen her own embarrassment. She paused, then added, “I had no idea my parents were going to drop that kind of bomb. That’s the first time I’d heard any of that. I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you for it first.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  “Well then, you think Vlad’s really been captured?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think your parents are up to the job of protecting Fern?” Sam said, sitting Indian-style against the far wall of Lindsey’s room.

  “At this point, they’re our only option,” Lindsey said. “Besides, they have a huge network of friends. They can call for help in an instant.”

  “Do you really think Chief Quagmire doesn’t have someone watching me now that I’ve been dismissed as an official claim or whatever?”

  “Chief Quagmire needs you to catch Vlad. I’m sure someone’s watching you. I don’t know why he wanted to get rid of the ‘official’ cover, but he’s up to something.”

  Sam and Fern looked fear-stricken. Lindsey focused on them.

  “Seriously, we don’t need to get too panicked. My parents don’t know what we know—that Chief Quagmire is actually planning on using you to get to Vlad. That means if he hasn’t been caught, the chief will have someone watching you. You’ll have protection.”

  “I wonder who it is?”

  “It could be someone at school,” Lindsey said. “Like Mrs. Larkey. The Alliance has so many informants out there, my parents have started calling it the V.I.A.”

  “We have to be careful,” Sam said, deep in thought.

  “You’re right,” Lindsey said.

  “Careful?” Fern asked, mystified. “Careful about what?”

  “You know what I don’t understand,” Sam said. “Why was Vlad snooping around after the stone? What does he want with it? Why didn’t he just grab it?”

  The room was silent.

  “OF COURSE!” Lindsey said, jumping off the bed. “He wants it for Cronus’s Curse! That’s why he didn’t steal it—that would have drawn too much attention to him. He was waiting until he could actually use it!”

  “What?” the twins both said at once.

  “It’s all part of the same legend about the Omphalos Oracle; every Otherworldly over the age of four knows it. Normals even have their own version of it. A long time ago this guy, Cronus, led a powerful group of Otherworldlies called the Titans. Everything was going along fine for him, but when he learned that one of his children would soon overthrow him, he totally freaked and decided he would kill all of his children to prevent this from happening. So he started eating them,” Lindsey said.

  “That’s disgusting,” Sam said, sticking his tongue out.

  “Things were different. Trust me, it was less weird back then. Anyway, his wife, Rhea, decided to trick him into sparing one of the children—Zeus.”

  “I’ve heard of Zeus,” Sam said.

  “Everyone’s heard of Zeus,” Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. “Are you going to let me finish or what?” She continued, “They dressed a rock up in Zeus’s clothes. Cronus swallowed it, thinking he had polished off all his children and had nothing to worry about anymore. That rock he swallowed was the Omphalos Oracle!”

  “What happened to the stone after that?”

  “He threw it up and the stone took on all these magical powers. That’s where the stone came from!”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Sam said.

  “What happened to Zeus?” Fern asked, ignoring Sam.

  “He went on to overthrow Cronus, just like the prophecy said. They called Zeus and all his friends the Olympians. There was a big war, the Titanomachy. Eventually the Olympians and Titans were forced underground by Normals.”

  “What are you trying to say? That Zeus was a vampire? That all those gods were vampires?”

  “No, of course not. But they’re ancestors of ours. It’s why all our special capabilities are named the way they are.”

  “What does all that have to do with Fern and the rock?” Sam said, fussing nervously with his blond hair.

  Lindsey’s eyes lit up. “Well, Zeus overthrew his father, but not before Cronus had a chance to curse the Omphalos. Most people believe that if a person invokes Cronus on St. George’s Day with the stone in hand, they can make any Otherworldly completely mortal.”

  “Mortal?” Sam questioned. “Isn’t everyone mortal?”

  “No, I mean that the person’s powers are taken away,” Lindsey said.

  “Including mine,” Fern said with straight face.

  “So let me get this straight,” Sam said, furrowing his brow. “You’re saying that Vlad is planning to come to San Juan Capistrano tomorrow, on St. George’s Day, and collect the Omphalos from Pirate’s Cove so he can use the curse on Fern.”

  “He wants the Omphalos more than he wants to kill Fern, I’ll bet—but yes, that’s what I would guess.”

  “Why would he want to kill me?”

  “Because you’re a threat.”

  “Wouldn’t he have killed me already, then?”

  “Maybe he couldn’t before.”

  “I still don’t understand what we think we’re going to do about it,” Fern said. Was Vlad really lying? “Why don’t your parents protect the rock?”

  “They don’t know where it is! They don’t know Vlad is after it!”

  “Then maybe we should tell them,” Fern said.

  “We can’t do that now. If Vlad doesn’t show up, we’ll all look like liars and fools,” Lindsey said. “And word might get out about where the rock is. There’s a reason it’s been buried for so long.”

  Sam stood up and faced Lindsey. Clenching his fist, he took on a look of grave determination. “Well then, if he does show up, we’ve got to get that rock before he does!”

  Chapter 21

  the swallow cemetery

  Mrs. McAllister slept soundly knowing that for the first time in weeks someone else was looking out for her daughter. Mr. Lin was to arrive around midnight and act as sentinel from a post outside in his car until morning. Mrs. Lin would relieve her husband and walk the children to school. The Lins, Mrs. McAllister was certain, could be counted on. They wanted to help and, more important, they had been proactive about it.

  When Mr. Lin arrived at a quarter to midnight, he had no idea that Fern and Sam had already snuck out the window, climbing down the jacaranda tree over an hour before his arrival. As Mr. Lin settled into his post, prepared for a long vigilant night
, things outside the house were quiet.

  Meanwhile, Lindsey, Sam, and Fern were weaving silently through the grove’s rustling orange trees. Had the Commander or the Lins known that their children, far from being safe in their beds, were busy at work on a plot to save Fern from the hands of the most feared Blout on the planet, surely they would’ve been worried sick. Perhaps, though, they were fortunate in their ignorance.

  The San Juan Capistrano night was warm and clear, its black construction paper sky full of white pinholes. Tonight, against the backdrop of the red-tiled train depot and white-walled mission, Capistrano felt like a drowsy small town.

  Fern, Sam, and Lindsey arrived at the grove with two flashlights and three sweatshirts. They silently made their way to the easternmost corner. The grove was quiet and the only light came from the beams of their flashlights.

  “AHHH!” Sam jumped up in the air and let go of his flashlight, which went flying into the trunk of a nearby tree.

  “What in the world is the matter with you?” Fern said. “You scared me half to death!”

  “Gimme your flashlight,” Sam demanded.

  “Huh?”

  “Your flashlight. Give it to me.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lindsey asked with apprehension in her voice.

  Sam grabbed Fern’s flashlight. He used the beam to trace his path back to where he had first jumped.

  “There.” The beam shone down on a small lump that blended into the caked dirt of the grove.

  “It’s a swallow,” Fern said quietly.

  “It’s a dead swallow,” Sam said. He moved the beam of the flashlight to the orange tree a half foot away from the bird.

  “I think it flew into that tree and died from the impact,” Lindsey said.

  “There’s another one over here,” Fern said, shining the beam low to the ground as she inspected it for more bird corpses.

  Lindsey ran in the opposite direction with her flashlight. “Guys! There are two more over here!”

  “Oh no,” Sam said, his eyes wide with fright. He went over to Lindsey. “They’re all over the place. But why would they fly into the trees?”