A Fall of Silver (36 page)

“They?” She glanced again at the dusty front door, feeling betrayed.
A trap? Had this been a trap all along? All of it?

The brief flare of emotion subsided into a grim hollowness. She felt
as empty and lonely as the house in front of her. Grabbing her gym bag, she rifled through it until she found her gloves and her whips.

“Fine. I can handle it,
” she said.

“I don’t know who
is inside. Joe may not even be there.”

“What exactly did they say?”

“Not a lot. Just to send you here if we wanted to get him back.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated and worried. “If I go in with you—”

“They may kill him?”

“He didn’t say that.” He jerked the handle to open his door.

“Don’t.
Stay here. There’s no point in both of us getting killed.”

“It’s a trap
. Something isn’t right, I can feel it.”

“No kidding
,” she replied dryly, “but think about it. You’re more important to them—to everyone—than I am.” The truth squeezed out of her, leaving her throat raw. “And I’m armed. If it’s a trap and someone has to die, let it be me.”

“No!” He hit the steering wheel with
a fist. The car rocked. “No—you can’t go in alone—I’m coming.”

“And risk
Father Donatello’s life? No, stay here. For once, let me do the right thing.” She tried to smile with stiff lips. "I promise I won’t kill anyone who doesn’t need a-killin’.”

Before he could
extract himself from his rust-bucket, she ran up the uneven, cracked sidewalk. Her heart pounded as if she’s run a mile instead of a few yards. The streetlight cast the steps in sharp relief and a clean-edged triangle of light highlighted the area in front of the door. Stepping into the golden pool made her feel exposed. The vulnerable skin between her shoulder blades twitched and she gritted her teeth to keep from glancing over her shoulder. She grabbed the icy door knob and thrust the door open before the overwhelming sensation of fear stopped her.

The hallway was oppressively silent. As her eyes adjusted, she
moved inside, taking in the wide staircase directly in front of her. A dining room lay to her right, furnished with an oval wooden table and six chairs. Dust-laden spider webs shrouded the legs of the furniture and she stared at the table. An expectant hush enveloped the room as if a ghostly presence roamed the kitchen beyond, selecting plates and silverware to set the dining table for guests. But the table remained bare except for a thick layer of dust.

On her left, a living room with heavy, upholstered chairs and a long, low sofa drowsed in
Stygian shadows.

“Father Donatello!” she called
as she moved toward the living room.

“Here!” A hesitant voice replied. The darkness filling the corners of the living room stirred.

Tensing, she walked toward the sound, her skin crawling as if invisible spiders ran over her bare flesh. She flicked a quick glance over her shoulder and studied the empty dining room.

“Where are you?”

“Here.” Father Donatello stepped out of the farthest corner in the living room. He moved to stand in front of the fireplace, barely visible against the black shadows behind him.

The rotten drapes
covering the wide, double windows had long ago ceased to hold out the in watery gray light from the streetlight. The weak light filtered through the tattered remains and painted the contents of the room with a sickly, bluish tint. The priest looked ill with deep hollows cut into his cheeks and his eyes invisible in deep, blackened sockets.

“Are you all right?” She
looked around quickly before striding forward to grip his hand.

His skin felt chilled and waxy within her grasp, but he nodded. “Yes
, I’m fine.”

“They didn’t bite you, did they?”

He shook his head. “No. But there’s something—”

“Darling!” T
he high flute of a woman’s voice cut him off.

Quicksilver
whirled, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Two figures stood
in the hallway, the slender figure of a woman and the taller, broad-shouldered silhouette of a man. A golden beam from the streetlight poured through the open front door, highlighting them in sharp-edged chiaroscuro.

Her heart beat faster, b
attering itself within the tight confines of her chest until she could hardly breathe.
How could this be? How could they….

“Mom?”

“Oh, my—Allison! You’ve grown!” The silver-blond haired woman glided toward them, incandescent amidst the shadows.

It can’t be! T
his is crazy!
Quicksilver backed away. Her grip on Father Donatello’s arm tightened and she pulled him back another step until she stumbled over the fireplace’s stone apron.

“Who—what are you doing here?”
she asked.

“He
y, kiddo!” The man stepped forward, a broad smile wreathing his handsome face, a face she’d longed to see for so many years. “Come on, it’s been a long time, kiddo. How about a hug for your old dad?”

The
mantelpiece hit her shoulder blades. She hadn’t even realized she’d backed up another foot. Now she was trapped with the hard edge of the mantelpiece biting into her shoulders.

“It’s all right,” Father Donatello whispered. “I think.”

“You think?” her voice rose.
I should be glad to see them! Mom and Dad.
After all these years, they were alive and here! Had they come to find her at last?

But there’d been n
o word from them after the first year of letters, nothing but silence. So they didn’t know what had happened to her, what she’d done in Mexico. They didn’t know what she’d become.

Think

She desperately wanted to understand what was happening, what they were doing here, and how they had found her. Her thoughts rattled and whirled, shifting like leaves caught in a hurricane. Weight shifting from one foot to the other, she finally took a step forward, only to retreat again until her back hit the mantelpiece again.

She wanted to run forward and hug them, but
she couldn’t. All she felt was mindless horror at the sight of their young faces.

Young
. They looked so young and surreally beautiful. They didn’t seem to have aged at all, not one more year lined their smooth, tanned faces. They looked as they had when they waved goodbye to her.

“Come
on, dear,” her mother coaxed, reaching out to her with pale hands. The perfect, manicured nails glinted with the sheen of pearls in the dim light as she wriggled them in invitation. “Just one hug! It’s been so long and we’ve missed you terribly!”

Kill them
! The thought thundered through her head. You know what they are. And now you know why they stopped writing to you. They died.

They turned into vampires
, and then they kidnapped Father Donatello.

But why? Why Father Donatello? Why now?

“It’s been…a long time,” she managed to say through trembling lips. “I’m sorry, but I…I can’t. The shock…it’s crazy.”

Her father nodded and placed a heavy hand on his wife’s shoulder.
His other hand twisted into the pocket of his jeans. For one moment, she had the insane idea that they’d been watching television when she arrived and he had absentmindedly put the remote control into his pocket.

“Of course. The shock,
” he repeated.

“The shock…
.” her mother echoed. A brief, calculating gleam flickered through her eyes.

“Understandable, kiddo.”

“I just need to—that is—Kethan…. He’s waiting. Outside, in the car. For Father Donatello and me. We’ve got to go.” She shifted slightly, hiding her hands behind her so she could grip the reassuring heft of the whip handles.

However, although she clutched at the familiar security of her weapons, s
he knew she couldn’t use them. She just couldn’t do it. Her parents were vampires, but she couldn’t kill them like this, no matter what they had done or what they were. Her body shook until her teeth chattered.

“
Father Donatello.” She took his hand, seeking to calm her calamitous emotions. “Come on, we’re leaving.” She nodded at her parents, her head bobbing on a rubber neck.
Please let us go. Just let us get to the door
.
Please let me be wrong about them, let them look old and human in the unflattering light of day
. “We’ll talk, later. It’s just that Kethan’s waiting and Father Donatello is tired.”

“No, dear.
” Her mother frowned and pressed one finger against the center of her plump lower lip. “The priest must stay here with us. He’s our guest. We just thought you wanted to see him, talk to him.”

“There’s no reason for him to stay.”

“He’s…helpful to us.” Her father released his grip on her mother’s shoulder and moved slightly to the left, blocking the way to the door. “You understand, kiddo.”

Still holdi
ng Father Donatello’s hand, Quicksilver gripped the handle of a whip with her right hand.

Nausea
burned her throat.

Oh, God,
I can’t do this. What would Kethan do? Think!
There had to be some argument, some words she could say, a way out.

“
Helpful?” she asked. “How? Maybe I could help you?”

“Oh
no, dear, we can’t impose on you. And he helps us in so many ways. Really, we rely on him very much. We’re strangers to this area, dear, and he’s helping us get acclimated,” her mother said. “Surely you can understand that?”
Surely you’ve got enough brains to comprehend such a simple matter,
her mother’s tone implied.

Quicksilver flushed
in response, feeling again like an ungainly child no one wanted around. “What are you doing here? In this house?”

“Renting.
” Her mother laughed. “Naturally. What did you think? And of course, we were hoping to find you.”

“Well
, you did.” She shifted from foot to foot again. Her toes felt stiff with cold and she wriggled them as she eyed the distance to the door. “But it’s getting late. I’ve got to get going.”

“Of course
,” her mother agreed with a polite smile that didn’t hide the feral gleam in her eyes. “Although, I hope you’ll come back once we’ve fixed the place up. We want you to feel comfortable, that you belong here with us.”

“Sure
. But right now, Father Donatello and I need to get back home. People are waiting for him. The church. You know.” She pushed him in front of her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered into his ear.

“Yes,” he mumbled, clearly dazed.
Controlled by my parents
? “I’m….”

“
Don’t worry, Kethan’s outside.” She caught her father’s glance. The hellish flames in his eyes forced her to focus on his forehead to keep her mind clear. Despite her effort to block them, she heard whispers slide past her defenses.

Give in
, we’re your parents. We love you. Look at us—we love you.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of
a whip. Her joints ached with the pressure of her grip, and she fought back the strong urge to be sick.

“Kethan?
Good.” Father Donatello walked toward the hallway with slow, dragging steps, his gaze fixated on the patch of light streaming in from the door from the streetlight.

“Allison!” When her father used her name instead of “kiddo
,” it was serious and seriously bad. “We prefer he stay.”

“
He can come back. Tomorrow. I’ll bring him.” The child inside her trembled, fearing punishment. If she disobeyed….

Promise anything, just
keep moving.

She stared at the filth
y floor and edged forward, one yard and then another. When they reached the hallway, her parents gave way, backing toward the stairs. Icy and shaking with tension, she pushed Father Donatello another yard. Even the floor seemed to move uneasily beneath her trembling legs, her entire world off kilter as her parents’ crimson eyes burned into her back.

“Tomorrow?” her father echoed.

“Yes, we’ll see you around,” she agreed, hardly able to speak through stiffened lips.

Then they were outside, bathed in the
artificial sunshine of the streetlight.

Rushing
toward her, Kethan called, “What happened? Why did you take so long?” His gaze snapped beyond her to the open front door at her back.

She shepherded Father Donatello
forward more quickly, terrified of what might follow them.

“My parents
. My parents were inside.” The sensation of unreality increased.
How had her parents found her? Why?
“They had him. I think they’re going to try to stop us.” Her voice broke. “I don’t know.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m afraid.”