Blood Ties (22 page)

Oliver didn't recognize it. “Knowing Bane, it's probably some gross love charm or something.”

“Or maybe it has something to do with whatever Bane's been up to,” Emalie suggested. “You know, with Selene and your prophecy.”

“Could be.” Oliver dropped the necklace in his pocket. “Maybe it can explain some things, since he never does.”

“You can use it to blackmail him, if nothing else,” Dean suggested with a cautious grin.

“Mmm,” Oliver agreed.

They walked on, reaching the entrance gate. Oliver and Dean each took Emalie by an arm, and they vaulted over it as a trio. They crossed a parking lot and entered a small park.

“What were we meeting up for tonight?” Oliver asked blankly.

“Oh yeah,” said Dean, stopping in the sandy playground area. “Duh, we were going to hit another graveyard. Emalie updated the map.”

“Right.” Emalie reached into her shoulder bag and produced a beat-up city map. They'd been using it to keep track of their progress searching graveyards for Oliver's human parents. Howard and Lindsey Bailey had been killed on the same night that Oliver had been sired. Oliver had been an infant at the time, in the year 1946. Emalie had found an obituary for the Baileys, but it didn't say where they'd been buried.

Then there was the troubling fact that Braiden Lang had told Oliver that his human parents were really alive. There was no proof of that either, but Oliver wanted it to be true. Over the summer, the three had searched online in local records, and then across the country, for a living Howard and Lindsey Bailey who were the right age—Oliver figured they'd be at least eighty—but they weren't out there, at least not under that name.

Not knowing what else to do, they'd started searching the graveyards in town. This search was as much
not
to find them as to find them. If they weren't buried anywhere, that helped somewhat to prove that they were alive. Of course, there was the possibility that the Baileys weren't even buried in Seattle. They could be anywhere. Oliver knew the whole thing was a long shot, yet it was all he could do, and he felt he had to do something.

“Okay, here …” Emalie was just unfolding the map when her eyes rolled up in her head, eyelids fluttering. Her knees buckled and she slumped, falling backward. Oliver and Dean reached for her, but too late. Her shoulder slapped a swing as she toppled to the sand.

Oliver and Dean were beside her in a moment. Her eyes had closed. “Emalie,” said Oliver. “Hey, Emalie!”

“Nnn …” She winced, then her eyes slowly creaked open. “What happened?”

“Don't know,” said Dean. “You just checked out.”

Emalie pushed up onto her elbows. “Oh … Probably just from the spirit encounter back there. Sometimes it's a little intense.”

“This has happened to you before?” Oliver asked, hating how he sounded like a concerned parent, but feeling that way.

“Maybe, yeah,” Emalie said. “Once or twice. I'll be fine. Just gotta get a Slurpee or something.”

“You should rest,” insisted Dean. “No grave searching tonight.”

Emalie started to stand. “Nah, I'm good, I—”

She collapsed again, only this time Oliver and Dean caught her.

“Dean's right,” said Oliver as they hoisted her to her feet. “Home. You're the only living person here, and we're keeping it that way.”

“Come on, you guys. It's not that bad,” said Emalie, but she didn't sound convinced.

“We can look again next weekend,” said Oliver, trying not to sound as worried as he was. It was very rare for a human to interact with spirits of the dead like Emalie could. Even powerful Orani were only known for their ability to read the minds of the living.

Once Emalie was back in her room, Oliver and Dean skulked around town for a while, trying to enjoy this last night of freedom, but they found themselves strangely quiet.

“Not a bad summer,” Dean said at one point. “There were those charion rides …” When Oliver didn't chip in with his own summer recap, Dean went on. “And that night when Ty let us help out in the ice cream truck.”

Oliver was able to wrench himself out of his thoughts to add, “And the night we broke into the supermarket with Autumn.”

“Y-yeah,” Dean said, his voice cracking awkwardly at the mention of Autumn Fitch, who was a zombie and one of Dean's homeschool classmates. Her mother, Ariana, was their teacher.

Neither Dean nor Oliver could carry the conversation after that. A few blocks later, Dean said, “You're worried about her.”

“Aren't you?” Oliver replied.

“Well, yeah,” said Dean. He sounded relieved to admit it. Oliver felt the same way. “Her powers seem to be getting to her. And I mean, she's only human …”

“We'll have to keep an eye on her,” said Oliver.

They both fell silent again.

Eventually, they gave up and headed home. Oliver's thoughts about the events at the zoo, with both Bane and Emalie, kept him awake long past dawn.

Chapter 3

The Odd New Normal

THE NEXT EVENING, OLIVER
found himself standing by his coffin, scowling at the black tie in his hands. He'd already put on the white button-down shirt and black pants that were his school uniform, but slipping the tie around his throat would somehow make it official. He thought ahead to the night of school to come, his last year of Eighth Pentath, which was like the end of seventh grade, and could imagine nothing good about it.

Upstairs, the booming, urgent voices of newscasters told him that Phlox had flicked on the television in the kitchen. Oliver tossed on the tie and grabbed his backpack. It was empty and feather light, likely for the only time this year. He wanted to get upstairs to see if there'd been a report on the jaguar attack—

“Oliver.”

Oliver almost jumped. Sebastian was leaning out of the bathroom, wearing black silk pajamas and slippers. “Can you give me a hand with this?”

A long silver cylinder was attached to his left elbow. Inside this metal tube, Sebastian was regrowing the forearm and hand that he had lost back in June. The loss of his arm was the price for wielding the Stiletto of Alamut, a mystical weapon that he'd used to try to kill Selene.

“Sure,” Oliver replied, faking enthusiasm. He still wasn't used to having his dad around during the nights. Normally, Sebastian would have left for work as an attorney for Half-Light before Oliver woke up, but with his injury he'd been working from home all summer.

Sebastian retreated to the sink. “I just need help changing the solution,” he muttered.

Oliver didn't like this. He'd never considered the possibility that his dad could be vulnerable to anything, or a failure. Sebastian had always been so in control, so capable, the imposing figure in the fine suit, sweeping in and out on important business. Now, he was stuck in the house, perpetually wearing pajamas, his face weary from the constant pain in his arm. As long as he was wearing the cylindrical regrowth chamber, he couldn't Occupy, evanesce, or spectralize. Basic levitation was even difficult.

Oliver joined his dad by the sink and took hold of the cylinder. With his remaining hand, Sebastian unfastened two latches at the top. “Hang on to it,” Sebastian instructed, then tapped a small keypad. The cylinder unlocked and widened with a hiss. Oliver slowly lowered it, revealing the beginnings of Sebastian's new limb: a skinny, glossy white forearm, still miniature in size, extending down from his elbow and ending at a tiny hand with barely formed fingers. Steam rose off it as the growing solution evaporated.

Oliver turned his gaze from the sight as quickly as he could, instead concentrating on pouring the scalding-hot, orange liquid from the cylinder down the sink. He turned back to see his father gazing forlornly at the stunted new limb.

Sebastian caught Oliver watching him, attempted a smile and said, “It still has some way to go, doesn't it?” He held out his normal hand, and Oliver gave him the cylinder.

They moved to the counter, where a flask of golden liquid sat beside two bowls of crystal powders. Oliver dutifully added the powders to the cylinder, and then poured in the liquid. A burst of steam erupted from the cylinder as the solution formed. He opened the medicine cabinet and removed a small black bottle shaped like a snake's head. He twisted off the cap, revealing a dropper tip. Sebastian held out the cylinder and Oliver tapped the bottle, releasing two drops of Krait venom into the solution, which helped to numb the growing pains.

Sebastian lowered his new arm into the cylinder, wincing as it entered the solution. “Dr. Vincent says it's coming along on schedule,” he said sullenly, “but it will still be awhile.”

“Mmm,” Oliver replied.

Vampires were quick healers. An injury that might kill a human, like a stabbing or a gunshot, would heal in a matter of weeks. Oliver had broken his jaw back in Italy, and while it had seemed to take forever to heal, it had really only been a few days. Even so, Sebastian's new arm was still going to need another month to fully regrow.

The cylinder hissed as it closed. Sebastian snapped the top clips into place, then typed on the keypad. A red light flipped to green. “Thanks,” he said, and reached awkwardly to ruffle Oliver's hair. He would normally have used the other hand. “Looking forward to school?” He asked as they both left the bathroom.

“Sure,” Oliver replied flatly.

Sebastian chuckled at Oliver's lack of conviction. “I didn't get to hear about your last night of summer. Did you do anything for the Feast?”

“Not really,” Oliver began, but hesitated. It was still hard to get used to telling his dad the truth about his activities. He'd spent the entire winter and spring hiding the fact that he'd been hanging out with Emalie, as his parents had been quite open about their disapproval of his human friend. They hadn't minded him hanging out with Dean, because they'd thought that Oliver was Dean's master. Oliver's parents now knew otherwise, because it had been Dean, under orders from his true master, a young vampire with a demon named Lythia LeRoux, who had thwarted Sebastian's attempt on Selene's life.

“I met up with Emalie and Dean at the zoo,” said Oliver, still fretting inside at saying Emalie's name aloud. He was worried about what his parents thought of Dean now, too. After they'd found out he was Lythia's minion, Oliver had expected them to forbid him from seeing Dean, but they hadn't. Maybe they weren't worried about Lythia anymore. Or maybe they were watching carefully whenever Dean was around. Oliver found himself doing that with Dean, now and then.

“Oh? Did you have a good time?” Sebastian asked, his tone mild, but not exactly enthusiastic.

“It was okay.”

Sebastian and Phlox probably wished that Oliver wasn't hanging out with a zombie and a human at all, but they seemed to have decided, at least for now, to accept it. Oliver was, after all, different from every other vampire child, and so maybe he should be allowed to act differently.

Oliver was the only child who had ever been sired from a human. All other vampire children had been created from the DNA of their parents and grown in a special lab. It was supposed to be impossible to sire a child, because siring involved merging a human with a
vampyr
demon. Children were not strong enough to be inhabited by a demon until they reached their later teen years.

In the tens of thousands of years of vampire history, Oliver was completely unique in two ways: He was a child who had been sired, and he was a sired vampire without a demon. Past a certain point, how could his parents know exactly what to do with him? It wasn't as though they'd had any experience with someone
like
him before. No one had.

So it seemed to Oliver that his parents were taking a guess at what was best for him, and had decided that his friends were tolerable, at least for now. Oliver wondered if that would change. He figured it had to, eventually, but tonight he wasn't worrying about it any more than he worried about most things.

They reached the kitchen to find Bane hunched over his breakfast and Phlox staring at the plasma screen above the counter. She was holding a bowl of whipping cream, a whisk poised above it. “Did you see this?” she asked.

“What?” Sebastian shuffled to the far counter, picking up an iron pitcher and filling the empty goblet waiting beside it.

Oliver saw images of the zoo from the previous night, awash in police lights, and he immediately turned his gaze to Bane, but his brother simply sat there sipping his coffee and staring into the center of the kitchen island. Oliver sat down beside him, in front of a plate that held a tarantula in suspension. He picked up the deep-fried, chocolate-dipped creature and bit off a leg, watching the news report.

Karma Kayne appeared on the screen. “It has been almost twenty-four hours since the boy's tragic death, and police and zoo staff still haven't located the missing jaguar. We've been asked to advise all residents in the area to stay indoors this evening and keep your pets in the house. If you do have to be out and about, stick to well-lit areas and make plenty of noise.”

Sebastian sipped from his goblet, then turned to Oliver. “Did you see any of this when you were there last night?”

Oliver felt a wave of nerves. He sensed Bane flashing a glance at him, but he didn't meet it. “Um, we saw something going on, so we took off.”

“Weren't you there, too, Charles?” Phlox asked.

“Nah,” Bane replied and immediately took a huge bite from the abdomen of his spider breakfast.

“The boy died of blood loss, from a bite to the shoulder and neck,” Karma continued. “The big question on everyone's mind tonight is how this dangerous cat got free, and police now say that this deadly event may have been caused by the
cadáveres
gang.”

“Oh my,” said Phlox.

Humans thought the cadáveres were simply one of the most dangerous gangs in the city, but actually, the gang didn't exist. It was a code word for passing news about vampire activity that affected the human world.