by Cheree Alsop
Another low moan followed.
Dr. Transton chuckled. “Yes, the one I chased from the Asylum. You were right; I acted hastily. But can you blame me?”
Her teeth closed together with a sound that sent a chill up Everett’s spine. His feet were frozen to the floor. If she came after him, he didn’t know if he would be able to run.
Dr. Transton looked out the closest window. “It’s about that time, sweetheart. Should we head to the roof?”
The zombie didn’t answer, but she began her shuffling steps once more. Though the progress was slow, all Everett could do was watch as she drew near. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to run, to fight, to do anything but let her touch him or bite him. The stories he had heard about zombies after the Ending War flooded his mind, tales of terror and fear that usually ended with fire engulfing the creatures.
His muscles tensed as his fight or flight instincts kicked in. He was about to run when he noticed the look on Dr. Transton’s face.
The doctor watched him as Monique drew near. There was fear on his face, stark fear as though he didn’t know what to do, but the fear wasn’t for Everett’s sake. Instead, the all-encompassing worry he saw in Dr. Transton’s eyes was for the zombie. The closer she drew to him, the deeper the doctor’s fear became. It looked as though Dr. Transton feared he would snap Monique’s neck or set her on fire and he wouldn’t be able to reach them in time.
Realization that he was filled with the same prejudices that had caused Dr. Transton to banish him from the Asylum hit Everett hard. He didn’t know anything about zombies other than what he had been told as a child. The books in his father’s library had barely made mention of them, and the only stories were filled with terror. The voice in the back of his mind noted that the same thing applied to what he had read about vampires.
Everett took a calming breath. He pulled his lips up in a small, tight smile that didn’t show his teeth.
“Hello, Monique. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said carefully.
The zombie let out a breathy moan and she shuffled past Everett without looking at him. He didn’t turn at the sigh of relief the doctor didn’t quite stifle. When Dr. Transton followed Monique, Everett fell in behind him. The doctor pushed the up button on the elevator, waited until the zombie made her slow way inside, and pushed the button for floor thirty-three.
The smell of decay that filled the elevator made it hard to breathe. Everett was about to hold his nose when he noticed the doctor merely subtly breathing through his mouth. Determined to keep making strides with Dr. Transton, Everett did the same. It didn’t do much to lessen the stench, but kept him from passing out before the door opened again.
Monique gave a quiet moan and shuffled out. Her arm hit on the side of the elevator door, but she didn’t appear to feel it. The full force of her very meager attention was on the pair of glass doors set in a glass wall halfway across the room. Everett looked up to find more glass above them. All of the walls to the doors were made of glass squares, rectangles, triangles, and octagons. The effect was a wash of pale radiance from the half moon and starlight above.
A light shot across the glass, then another. Everett stared in awe at the tiny shooting stars trailing from one pane of glass to the other. It was beautiful, but didn’t make sense.
“How does the glass do that?” he asked.
“Magic,” Dr. Transton replied, his attention on the zombie.
“Magic?” Everett repeated doubtfully. “Magic isn’t real.”
“Neither are vampires,” the doctor said. Before Everett could reply, Dr. Transton held up a hand. “Patience, Everett. Look.”
Everett followed his gaze.
Monique had reached the glass doors. They slid open automatically. The instant the undiluted moonlight touched her skin, Monique changed. It wasn’t as though her rotten skin and appearance disappeared, but another image settled over her. Her blonde hair shimmered, her gray skin glowed, and her gaze softened with her smile. It was as if, with the moonlight, Everett was able to see Monique as she had been before she was turned into a zombie.
She put out her hands, her arms bending at the elbows as they hadn’t been able to do inside. Monique lifted her chin and turned in a circle. The girl who had been a zombie danced in the light of the moon.
Everett barely dared to breathe for fear of breaking the spell. He swore he had never seen anything as beautiful as the girl who twirled and walked on her tiptoes, pirouetting in time to music only she could hear.
“That’s my little girl,” Dr. Transton said.
Everett glanced at him and saw tears brimming in the doctor’s eyes.
“What happened to her?” he asked.
Dr. Transton was quiet for so long Everett didn’t think he would answer. The doctor’s gaze remained on his daughter, following Monique’s graceful dance across the rooftop.
“Do you know how zombies are made?” the doctor finally asked.
It hadn’t been in Everett’s reading. He wished, not for the first time, that his father had been interested in studying monsters instead of plants and insects. It certainly would have made his life a lot easier. He shook his head.
Dr. Transton glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “A zombie is made when a vampire bites a human.”
The words hit Everett with the force of a battering ram. He didn’t know what to say or do. Memories swarmed. He saw a familiar face and heard a laugh. He shook his head and it drifted away. The emotions that rose with it refused to go away as easily.
“I know what you’ve probably heard in fairy tales, but this is the reality,” Dr. Transton said quietly.
A thick silence settled between them.
Monique didn’t appear to tire. She covered every inch of the walled-in roof with her graceful dance. She never looked at the pair or acknowledged their presence. Her steps didn’t slow until gray touched the edges of the sky. As dawn rose and washed out the moonlight, Monique’s movements became jerky and rough. A moan finally escaped her at the early sunlight that broke free of the horizon. Without a backwards look, she made her shuffling way back inside the glass room.
Everett barely flinched when she shuffled past them without appearing to even notice they were there. Her otherworldly glow had vanished, leaving the glassy-eyed, decaying monster. She made it to the elevator and waited for the door to open, moaning every once in a while quietly.
“How does the moon do that?” Everett asked.
Dr. Transton shook his head. “I’m not sure. I’ve studied it for years in the hopes of capturing or prolonging the effects, but to no avail.”
“Can you talk to her when she’s, um, transformed?” Everett pressed.
The sorrow on the doctor’s face was answer enough. He dropped his gaze and said, “She’s not there, not the way she was before. What we get to see is only a shell of her former self. The grace which was her defining asset remains somewhere within her soul, but that is all that’s left.”
Sadness hit Everett hard. He couldn’t imagine being a father and watching something like that happen to his daughter. He followed the doctor to the elevator.
“That’s why you built the Monster Asylum,” he said.
Dr. Transton nodded wordlessly and pushed the button to go down. They paused at the thirty-second floor and Monique shuffled off.
“Goodbye, sweetheart,” Dr. Transton said. “I’ll see you again tonight.”
Monique made her way across the floor without acknowledging that her father had spoken.
When the elevator doors closed again, Everett didn’t know what to say. The doctor pushed the button for the bottom floor. By the time the doors opened again, Everett still hadn’t come up with a response to what he had seen. The fact that his kind was responsible for Monique’s condition had hit hard. He couldn’t help the guilt that washed over him.
He stepped out and took two steps down the dark, musty hallway when Dr. Transton’s voice stopped him.
“You can come back whenever you wan
t.”
Everett turned and stared. “Are you sure? After your daughter, I can’t blame you for not wanting vampires anywhere near here.”
A small but kind smile touched the doctor’s lips. “You’re different, Everett. Adrielle tried to tell me that, and so did you, but I didn’t want to believe it. The way you sacrificed yourself to save that boy convinced me.”
“I didn’t do it to convince you of anything,” Everett replied quietly.
Dr. Transton nodded. “I know. That’s why you can come back, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll keep this place a secret from everyone. You can’t tell a soul. The fate of everyone here depends on it.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Everett promised. He turned and started toward the door. He paused about halfway there. “What’s the password to get in? Xander said we’re not supposed to come in without a password.”
The doctor’s eyes creased at the corners in humor. “Vampires are the enemy.”
“Vampires are the enemy,” Everett repeated. No wonder Adrielle hadn’t used the password when she showed him the Asylum; it wouldn’t exactly have started the tour off on a good note.
Dr. Transton pushed the button for the elevator. When Everett reached the door, he hesitated with a hand on it.
“Thanks for letting me in,” he told Xander.
The ogren appeared surprised at being addressed. He gave what sounded like a pleased grunt. “Welcome.”
Everett pushed the door open. It shut behind him with a resounding thud. He looked up, expecting to see thirty-three stories. Instead, only ten showed above the alley. Everett shook his head in amazement and hurried to the closest tunnel entrance before the sunlight became too bright.
Chapter Ten
Celeste was watering the plants on the porch when Everett hurried inside.
“You’re cutting it a little close, aren’t you?” she called after him.
“I kept to the shadows,” Everett replied. In truth, he felt a little over-baked. The sun had definitely lingered too long on his skin. He had reached the house just when mist started to rise from his body.
Grateful for the welcoming darkness in his room, Everett fell on his bed, exhausted from the night’s events. After a few minutes of pondering what had happened, a smile spread across his face. He had saved the teenager. He had been able to keep from drinking the human’s blood. He had found a way to convince Dr. Transton that vampires weren’t so bad, at least not all of them.
His smile faltered at the realization of what he had learned. A vampire was responsible for Monique being a zombie. His kind created her kind when they bit humans. It was the truth, a fact, and something Everett had denied for so many years. Pain filled him along with a sadness so sharp he could barely breathe.
“Everett?” Celeste’s face appeared in the doorway. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he replied. He shoved away the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and schooled his face not to show his thoughts when he looked at his sister.
Most of his siblings chose to avoid the basement, giving him his space, but Celeste had told him before that too much space was bad. When he first learned he was a vampire, Everett had withdrawn into himself almost completely. He refused to leave his room for fear that he was a danger to his brothers and sisters, and he hated drinking the pig’s blood his mother brought and insisted on watching him swallow it down before she would leave.
Celeste had taken it upon herself to bring Everett back into the family. She spent days in the basement with him, skipping school and leaving only to help Mom take care of Bran and Annie. She never pushed him, but showed just by being there that she didn’t fear what he was.
Eventually, she brought Donavan, and then Finch and Gabe, with her. Soon, every Masterson child not confined to a wheelchair spent their evenings playing board games in the basement. A few nights later, Everett followed them upstairs to eat dinner. It was the first time since being told what he was that he felt somewhat normal again.
Celeste smiled and came inside. “You’ve been quite the wanderer lately,” she said.
Everett sat up and nodded. “The city’s become more interesting.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Mom would be horrified to know you spend all this time on the streets at night. She’s convinced the dark creatures will get anyone who sets foot on asphalt after sundown. I had to convince her you were at the sleepover with Gabe and Finch, but both of us know that isn’t true, or safe. Luckily, she’s been too busy with the coming full moon to worry too much about it.”
Everett gave her a sharp look. “What dark creatures?”
Celeste’s shoulders lifted. “I’m not sure. You know Mom and her scare tactics. She’s just trying to keep us safe.”
“I’m not so sure,” Everett replied. At his older sister’s surprised look, he explained, “About the dark creatures, not Mom keeping us safe. I think she’s right.”
His sister watched him closely. “You mean, there are dark creatures out there?”
“I think so,” he admitted. He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. Celeste had been his rock through so much; the least he could do was trust her. “I saved someone’s life today.” He paused, gathering his thoughts.
He had always appreciated the way she waited instead of pressing him for information. She had the gift of patience when he needed a minute to think about what he wanted to say. He knew her patience was what helped to make her such a great caretaker.
“He was attacked by something in the tunnels.” Everett’s voice dropped as he remembered. “There was blood everywhere. His chest was torn as if something big had clawed him. He begged me to save his life.”
“There was blood everywhere?” Celeste repeated. She watched him closely. “You were okay? I noticed you only drank half of your vitamin drink yesterday.”
“That was a bad move on my part,” Everett admitted. “It tasted funny. We need to get a new batch.”
“Already done,” his sister replied. She smiled at him. “When I saw you hadn’t finished it, I figured it must have been getting old. I traded for some more this afternoon.”
“Thank goodness.” Everett looked up at the ceiling. “In answer to your question, no, I wasn’t okay. Not drinking that boy’s blood was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was dripping from him, calling to me.” He swallowed through a tight throat.
Celeste set a hand on his knee. “I’m proud of you for not doing it.”
His voice was quiet when he asked, “How do you know I didn’t?”
Celeste’s smile deepened. “Everett, you have more courage and control than any person I’ve ever met. Why do you think out of all of us you’re the one who’s a vampire? It’s because you can handle it.”
No one had ever said it quite like that to him before. His sister’s faith in him made him feel stronger.
“So you took the boy to the hospital?” Celeste asked. He could hear the worry in her voice; both of them knew what would happen if a vampire showed up to the hospital with a bleeding human. The vampire would never make it home.
He wanted to tell her about the Asylum to ease her fears, but he had promised Dr. Transton.
“Don’t worry. I know better than that. I found somebody who would take him.”
“Oh, good,” Celeste breathed. She stood. “Maybe you can keep your wanderings to a minimum for a bit so Mom doesn’t catch on.”
“I will,” Everett replied.
She patted his knee. “Take care of yourself, little brother. There are too many people here who love you. Don’t get too reckless.
“I’ll be careful,” he promised.
When she left, he found himself wondering if too many promises were going to get him in trouble. He tried to find a soft place on his pillow, but he couldn’t get comfortable. He knew it was more to do with the fact that his mind would not slow down rather than the pillow itself; his mom always made sure her children had clean, comfortable bedding.
Half of him feare
d that he would awaken only to find out that the Asylum had been a dream; the other half, fear he would realize it was real. If vampires could do such things to humans, the Pentagrin was right to destroy those they could. He was a threat to his family. Though he spent so much time telling himself he was almost human, the truth made him into their worst enemy.
When Everett finally shut his eyes, Donavan called down, “Rett, time for dinner!”
“Seriously?” he groaned. He pushed up to a sitting position, debating whether it was worth going up or if he should try to catch a few minutes of sleep.
“Everett, honey, are you coming?” his mother called down.
A begrudging smile spread across Everett’s face. Celeste had asked him not to give her any reason for worry. He stood.
“I’m on my way,” he replied.
“See,” he heard his mother tell someone as they walked to the kitchen. “He’s doing just fine.”
Everett found everyone around the table when he went up. He joined them and forced a smile, trying not to remind himself that they could be like Dr. Transton’s daughter if he ever couldn’t control his cravings.
Celeste set his cup in front of him, breaking his train of thought. “Thank you,” he told her.
“Any time,” she replied. She ruffled his hair because she knew he hated it when she did that.
Celeste sat back down on the other side of Bran. Their mother was already helping Annie take a bite of applesauce. Everett tipped the cup up and sucked the blood through his hollow fangs so that it entered his blood stream directly. It was fresher this time, so the coppery taste wasn’t quite so prominent. Despite the fact that he had already drunk half a serving at the Asylum, he was careful to finish every last drop, telling himself that the next time he found someone bleeding in the tunnels, he might not be so strong.
As soon as dinner was finished, the sun had set enough that he could safely go outside. He stepped onto the porch, intent on the path that led to the tunnels.
“Leaving again?”
Everett spun around at the sound of Celeste’s voice. She sat on the porch swing with her feet up on the railing. The blonde highlights in her brown hair had been caught back in a braid around the crown of her head, leaving the darker strands down.
