by Max Turner
He thought Ophelia knew where his son was. He knew I didn’t. That made me expendable. So he did what I expected him to do. He attacked me.
I assumed he’d drop his son’s blanket. It was useless to him, or so I thought. But instead, he flicked it at my face, the way a kid flicks a towel. It snapped like a whip over my eye. It didn’t slow me down, but instinctively I turned my head, so I didn’t see him kick out with his leg until it was too late. I was raising my hand so I could depress the nozzle of the canister when his foot hit my chest. It knocked me back toward the cave entrance. The canister flew from my hand. It hit the rock wall and ripped open with a loud pop. The poison leaked out onto the floor. It was useless now.
Hyde growled. Then he turned back to Ophelia.
Where is my son? Where?
My nose and ears told me the answer. I smelled disinfectant. And I heard the careful steps of heavy boots. I should have guessed. I rose to my feet as noisily as I could, coughing and scuffing my shoes against the stone floor. I even pretended to slip, scattering loose pebbles across the ground. It was loud enough that Hyde didn’t hear my uncle until he’d ducked inside the room. Maximillian smelled the way he always did when he got back from the hospital—like cleanser. He’d traded in his gray skin for white. His face was so drawn and pale it practically glowed in the dark. But his eyes were alert and intense, his pupils wide. And his timing was perfect—as always. He had Hyde’s son cradled in one arm. The boy was unconscious, his breathing irregular. Shallow. Strained. In Maximilian’s other hand was a gun. It was pointing at the boy’s head, right at the base of his skull. Before anyone could blink, he cocked the gun. The trigger was already pulled back all the way. If anyone breathed on him too heavily, his thumb would slip, the hammer would slam into the cap of the next bullet, and the boy would die.
“Put her down and step back.” my uncle said.
Hyde stood to his full height. His eyes moved between his son and the man who was about to shoot him. He roared.
Maximilian kept his face expressionless, his eyes level. He pushed the tip of the gun barrel more firmly against the back of the boy’s head. “Whether he lives or dies is up to you. Now put her down and move back.”
Was this a bluff? My uncle knew the stakes. He was a cunning man. Obviously smart enough to figure out that Detective Baddon was also Hyde—that they were two halves of a single person. Like Ophelia, he must have figured things out at the hospital.
“My friends and I are walking out of here,” my uncle said. “I’ll take your boy back to the hospital. You can visit him there, as Adam. I won’t deal with you.”
Hyde growled.
Baddon is weak. How can he protect the boy from others like you?
Maximilian stared at Hyde’s face. What was he looking for? Some sign of reason or compassion?
“Is he in there?” my uncle asked. “Can Adam hear this? Does he know about you?”
Hyde didn’t answer. He probably didn’t know. But I’d seen Detective Baddon’s face and heard his confusion after his transformation back in the tunnel. It was genuine. He didn’t know about this—that he was Hyde. A beast that hunted vampires.
Leave my son and I’ll let you go.
“I won’t turn him over to you. I’ll turn him over to Adam. That’s the best offer you’re going to get.”
Hyde glared at him. Seconds passed. It felt like forever. Then he snarled and let Ophelia drop to the floor. Once her feet were set, he turned her toward the entrance. I couldn’t believe it. That he was agreeing to this. But he wasn’t. It was just a distraction. As soon as she moved in front of him, he pushed her hard at my uncle. Then he lunged. It was a bold move, but it made sense. My uncle wouldn’t kill an innocent child, and Hyde must have known it.
But people always underestimated Maximilian. Was it because he was human? Because he had one foot in the grave? We were all wrong about that. He had both feet in the grave. I don’t know if it was because of my fear, or the desperation of our situation, but my mind wasn’t asking itself the questions it should have about him. Where did his confidence come from? The guy was underground with a bunch of vampires strong enough to knock his teeth out through his ears, and he wasn’t a bit intimidated. Most humans were afraid of the dark. How could Maximilian even see?
I got my answer as soon as Hyde attacked him. Maximilian dropped the boy and fired a round that grazed Hyde’s shoulder. In the next instant, his gun got knocked away and he was pushed back through the entrance of the lair. Even though Hyde was faster, Maximilian’s movements had changed. Nothing like a stone golem. He was fluid. Perfectly balanced. Like a vampire. Don’t ask me how he’d done it, but he was one of us now. I should have guessed that he’d do this. Mr. Entwistle had given me the first clue when he’d told me and Charlie to focus on what a person wanted. Maximilian wanted to live. To hunt vampires. This was the only way. Biotherapeutics, he’d said. Killing cancer cells with a virus. Well, he’d used the heavyweight champion of contagions. My guess was he’d taken my blood—in the hospital maybe. But I suppose it didn’t matter how he’d done it. What mattered was that he’d dropped Hyde’s son, and so we’d lost our leverage.
But my uncle always had a plan B. He put it into action as he stumbled back into the main tunnel, still reeling from Hyde’s assault. Not a bad bit of multitasking. He was a talented hunter. Always prepared. And he loved his toys. Guns and Tasers and things that go bang in the night. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the detonator appear in his hand. He’d used one just like it to stop Vlad. A year ago, he’d blown out some windows and let a little sunlight into our lives. This time, when he pressed the magic button, the wooden supports around us exploded. He must have done a quick wiring job while the rest of us were out in the tunnel, fighting and talking and stumbling around.
Without the wooden timbers in place, gravity went to work. A huge column of broken stone started to slide down. I leapt for the opening. So did Ophelia. We were close enough to make it easily, and my uncle would have known that. But as always, Hyde was fastest. He grabbed us both, hurled us back, and used the momentum to throw himself into the entrance. It put him directly in the path of the largest chunk of falling rock. The weight of it was unimaginable. It would have flattened Superman. But Hyde stopped it. Or slowed it. He was forced to his knees. He had his arms straight over his head, but the immensity of the stone forced him to lower it across the back of his shoulders. He crouched across the doorway, his son on the ground in front of him. The two were blocking the exit.
Then Hyde started to change. It started in his arms and legs. His hair began to vanish. It was the wolfsbane. The shattered canister was right beside him, the air around it fragrant with the smell of monkshood, the flowers Ophelia had used to make the poison. If Hyde became human, we’d be doomed. Buried in a grave of stone and dust. The rock column forced him onto his hands and knees. His son was trapped underneath him. He was like a bridge. And he was breaking.
Hurry . . . your knife. Hurry!
He was looking more like Detective Baddon with each passing moment.
I still had the blade in my hand. It was well-balanced with a keen edge, but was about as useful for stopping a rockslide as a handful of pudding.
Cut yourself. Hurry.
Was he serious? Before I could come up with an answer, Ophelia snatched the knife, dragged it over the palm of her hand, and stuck it under Hyde’s nose. He started to change back.
Blood might do it, too. Bring out the inner beast. For all I know, it’s different for each of them. But it doesn’t have to be a full moon.
Mr. Entwistle had said this to Charlie and me. Vampire blood was Hyde’s trigger. That must have been why Detective Baddon said the air in the tunnel wasn’t right. And why he had changed in the hospital. I’d cut my wrist on a piece of metal above the ceiling as I was leaving his son’s room.
Hyde growled. The rock was crushing him. He raised one hand. I assumed he was trying to get out of the way, but he grabbed Ophelia by the
arm instead.
My boy . . . get him out.
The words were scarcely louder than his breath. He could barely get them out. The strain of holding up the stone avalanche had every vein in his neck bulging. He couldn’t even raise his head. His eyes were glued on his son.
Not his fault . . .
Ophelia nodded. Sympathy was one of her strong points. It made her the perfect person to ask.
Hyde let her go. She crouched and slipped past. Then she turned and pulled his son free. I wondered if this was going to be my tomb. If he’d let me leave as well.
Get out.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Adam chose you. . . . Now go.
Adam chose you. What was that about? That he’d asked me to look after his son—to infect him? There wasn’t time to ask. I dove for the opening. My head was barely out in the tunnel when I felt Ophelia’s hands pulling at my arms. She helped me to my feet. The boy was lying on the ground beside her.
I looked around for my uncle. He was gone. A thick cloud of dust obscured my view ahead. I heard a loud crack above. The cave roof was shifting.
“Come on,” Ophelia said.
She bent and scooped Hyde’s son off the ground. As she straightened back up, I slid my hands underneath him so he was draped across my arms. I nodded, and we raced back up the tunnel.
— CHAPTER 43
THE PROPHECY REVISITED
Ophelia and I didn’t get far. As we rounded the corner, we could see my uncle ahead. He was supporting Charlie with one hand and had a bag of blood in the other. Luna was crouched beside them.
“Come on!” Maximilian said. “Or we’re going to spend the next hundred years digging up your friends.”
The air was charged with panic. Charlie was unconscious and most of the blood was dribbling out of his mouth. As Ophelia and I approached, my uncle glanced over.
“We’re okay,” I said.
Luna stood. Thank God.
You can say that again.
She slipped over beside me. I set the detective’s son on the ground and Luna and I sort of melted into one another.
I was sure I’d heard you. That you were here somewhere.
She looked at me and smiled. Did you think an army of werewolves could have kept me away?
I should have known better than to underestimate her resolve. How did you find us?
I drove back and followed the trail. Why did you guys run in circles for so long?
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. We certainly hadn’t meant to.
I was climbing over that pile of rocks when I heard your voice in my mind. You were talking to Charlie. You must have been moving away from me because your thoughts faded almost right away. But it led me to that cave.
She thought of Mr. Entwhistle and a wave of pity spilled out of her. But it was all right—we were going to make it out now. All we’d need was more blood, then we could restore his ruined body. Charlie’s, too.
I heard your voice, I told her. I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it because I didn’t hear you again.
I don’t really understand any of this, she thought. When I got closer to you, I could feel your panic. I was above, and tried to reach out—to keep you moving, but I wasn’t sure if you could hear me. After that, once you got slammed to the ground, I couldn’t get through. And it took me a while to find the hole that led down here.
She was standing beside me, with her arms wrapped around my waist. She pulled me a bit closer. I’m sorry it took so long.
I thought of what had happened with Hyde. How he had closed in on me with the knife—his mind bent on murder. I’d frozen.
Your timing was perfect, I told her.
She looked away. I know you’re exaggerating, but I appreciate it.
I wasn’t exaggerating. If she hadn’t restored my focus at the moment Hyde attacked me, things might have turned out differently. But it looked as if we were all going to be okay. I had Ophelia and my uncle to thank, as well. She was hovering over the detective’s son. Maximilian was trying to get Charlie to swallow more blood.
“How did you know where we were?” I asked him.
Maximilian lay Charlie flat. “The transponder.”
Transponder? Then I remembered. I reached back and felt a small bump on the top of my shoulder blade. My uncle had put it there with his Teletoon gun during our conversation in the hospital.
He looked up at me. Relief washed over his face. Deep lines of worry around his eyes and mouth disappeared. “I expected you to come out right behind me. When you didn’t, I nearly had a heart attack. I came back here to get reinforcements.”
“It was Hyde,” Ophelia said. “He stopped us.”
“How is the boy?” Maximilian asked.
“He’s alive,” Ophelia said. “But weak.”
“How did you get him out?”
“Hyde held the door.”
My uncle looked surprised. He was about to ask another question, but was interrupted by Charlie. He started to hack and cough. A fine mist of air and blood exploded from his mouth. Then he began to convulse.
“Get your hands on his shoulders,” Maximilian shouted.
Ophelia and Luna took his arms and pinned him to the rock. I steadied one of his legs, my uncle took the other. Then my friend’s eyes popped open. His teeth were down. He looked around at all of us.
“What are you doing to me?”
He seemed to be past the worst of it, so the others rose to give him space. He wiped blood from around his mouth. The bruises on his face were clearing. A second later they were entirely gone. He reached for my hand so I could pull him to a sitting position. “What happened?”
I started to answer but he waved for me to stop. “I need more blood.”
“I have more in my car,” Maximilian said.
“Where did you get it?” I asked.
“I stole it.”
I thought about what Inspector Johansson had said. That shipments of blood had disappeared from the Underground. I’d assumed this was Hyde’s doing, but my uncle must have been behind it. I guess it was a good thing. I was going to need a few gallons myself.
I felt Luna’s hand on my arm. I have something to give you first. She took out the necklace. The two parts were attached, the chains woven together. She gently separated her crescent from my silver moon, then slipped the chains apart. I bowed my head and she clasped the necklace into place. I felt her hand on my chest. She was beaming.
Now everything is as it should be.
Not quite, I thought. I looked down at the boy. He was still unwell. His breathing was shallow. And Mr. Entwistle was still in the cave above.
My uncle moved over beside us, then pointed down the tunnel.
“I came in another way. That direction. It would be faster, unless the path is blocked.”
I looked back the way we’d come, but there was so much dust in the air, I couldn’t see far.
“I’m sorry about what happened in there,” he added. “One thing your father and I learned the hard way—nothing ever goes according to plan.”
“We would have made it out if he hadn’t taken hold of us so quickly,” Ophelia said. “I’ve never seen anything so fast. I was certain that cave was going to be our tomb.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have been buried long,” my uncle replied. He was looking at her intently. Something was wrong. I’d been so focused on Charlie, I hadn’t noticed, but I could see it now in her eyes.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“Can you go back and get Hyde? He might still be alive.”
“Where is he?” Charlie asked. He started to cough again. He tried to stand up but couldn’t manage it.
My uncle offered him a hand. Charlie paused, then he took it and rose unsteadily to his feet. I couldn’t help but smile. My uncle and Charlie. Both vampires.
Hyde’s son stirred. His breathing was still ragged. He looked awful. Pale. Emaciated.
“Do you know what’s wrong with
him?” I asked.
“Later,” said Ophelia. “You have to save Adam. Quickly.”
“Are you certain that’s what we want to do?” my uncle asked. “I know Adam was a good man.”
Charlie turned and nearly fell over. “Adam? You mean Detective Baddon? What are you talking about? What is he doing here?”
“Detective Baddon was Hyde,” I explained.
Charlie looked at all of us. Then at Maximilian. “I’ll be damned . . .” Charlie’s surprise quickly turned to alarm. He looked at the dying boy lying on the tunnel floor. “That means he’s Hyde’s son.”
As soon as he said this, I had my second epiphany of the night. A personal best. I looked at Ophelia. She understood, too. She was crouched over the boy, her finger gently touching his neck. She was taking his pulse.
“Go,” she said.
I turned and started running.
“The whole tunnel is unstable,” my uncle said.
“Then hurry,” I shouted back. We had to save Adam. I started sprinting.
My uncle was right on my heels. “This makes no sense.”
It made perfect sense to me. But I knew the prophecy. And I knew that I wasn’t the messiah all the proselytizing vampires were waiting for.
As a kid, I never knew my father was a vampire hunter. To me, he was just Dad. The man who read me bedtime stories, who took me on archaeological digs, who made popcorn for Saturday Night at the Movies and did all the other things good fathers do. He was patient. Gentle. Kind. He only yelled at me once in my life—for going into the closet where he kept his gun. But he must have had another side because he was lethal. As a man, and as a vampire hunter, people praised him to the skies, and I never got tired of hearing it. But despite what was said, he couldn’t have been the greatest vampire hunter ever. That honor went to Hyde. And his son was a blood drinker, a werewolf. If he became an orphan, he would be the one the prophecies spoke of, not me. And if he inherited his father’s habit of killing vampires, of feeding on them, we might soon find ourselves on an endangered species list.
