Dead Spots (33 page)

“Dashiell, Eli said you knew I would get better—that my thing would come back. How do you know that?”

He looked at my face thoughtfully for a moment, then reached into his pocket. I tensed, but he just pulled out a sleek little cell phone. The idea that vampires hate or fear new technologies is kind of a myth—you don’t live to be hundreds of years old without learning how to adapt. Dashiell pushed a few buttons and held the phone up to me, sideways. It was a little video. I peered at it.

The video was of a nearly naked human woman screaming and throwing herself against the bars of a metal cell. Her face was bruised and swollen, and there were dark mascara streaks under her eyes, which made her look even more terrifying. I looked closer. She was wearing the tatters of a black sheath dress, and her disheveled hair was ink black as well. And then I gasped.

It was Ariadne.

“Is she...?”

“Human?” Dashiell nodded. “There were no nulls anywhere near her when this was taken.”

“But that’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid not,” Dashiell said quietly. “I have heard that a turn was possible for some of the very powerful nulls, but I had never known one who could do it. I suspect you are stronger than we knew.” He hesitated for a moment. “I was aware that Olivia wasn’t entirely forthcoming about some things, and I’m afraid I didn’t help.”

It was sort of an apology, but my brain was still foggy enough that I didn’t get it. “Wait, what do you mean, a turn?”

“Scarlett,” he said patiently, “you turned Ariadne into a human. Permanently.”

My mouth dropped open in absolute shock. “You’re kidding.”

We were quiet for a moment while the implications of that sunk in.

“Dashiell, I would never turn you back,” I said hurriedly, tears rushing to my eyes, “I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t—”

He held up a hand to silence me. “I know.” His eyes may have twinkled a little at me. “If you wanted me dead, Scarlett, you had plenty of chances that night at the mansion. But I must admit, this changes things.”

“How?”

“I am not sure yet.”

Another thought occurred to me. “What about your status with the other vampires? Is everything...okay now?”

“You mean, do I still have to find a scapegoat? No, I do not.” He smiled at me again, but this smile was deeply unsettling. “My vampires now believe that Ariadne was behind the killings, and I let the mystery go on so long so I could flush out those who were faithful to her. My status is more secure than ever.”

“And Ariadne?”

“She is no longer with us. I retained this video to show you, but I am not ready to let my people know about what it is you can do. Perhaps later.” He gave me a thoughtful look, and despite my blankets, a shiver slid up my spine. He wanted to use me to scare his enemies in the Old World.

He wanted me to be a weapon.

I almost opened my mouth to threaten Dashiell, but my slow-moving brain managed to stop me in time. This was not the time to plant my feet and take a stand. Especially since a) my power was currently gone, and b) I literally couldn’t stand.

“What happens now?” I said carefully.

“Now...I am very interested in your young friend, Scarlett. Have you considered taking her on as your apprentice?”

I admit, for a second, I thought about it. I pictured bringing Corry on jobs, teaching her about crime scenes and the Old World and how to survive. We could be a team, and I could be there for her, but not at all in the way Olivia was for me. I could do it right. And Corry could have a whole new future. A job, a friend, an entire new world.

The only problem was, it would be just like mine.

“No. That’s not happening.” Although I’d just promised myself not to antagonize Dashiell, my tone came out harsh and final.

He raised an eyebrow at me. I looked away quickly again. I felt suddenly cold. It’s very scary, I realized, being around actual vampires. I had never appreciated being a null more than I did at that moment.

“We could make her a very nice offer, Scarlett.” His voice was soft and dangerous.

“No. She’s out of this.” This time there was definite belligerence in my voice, and I glanced back at him, waiting for him to slap me or scream or something. Instead, when I looked over, he
was calmly playing with his little silver phone. Then he held it up to me again, showing me a new video.

“Scarbo!” Jack’s tinny voice was cheerful and filled with excitement. “Can you believe this? You and I work for the same guy!” My stomach churned with horror, and I felt my hands begin to shake. In the little video, Jack was standing outside of some sort of office building, talking right to the camera. His red hair had grown out a little, and it looked as if he’d been working out, too. He looked good. “Dash owns the company I’m working for now, and I was talking about you today, and it turns out that he uses your cleaning service. How cool is that? Anyway, he told me you were out of town for a couple of days, but he was going to see you soon, so we thought it’d be fun to make a video.” His smile grew a little embarrassed, as though he didn’t know how to sign off, so he just waved and winked at the little camera. “Call you soon, Scar!”

Oh God
. Dashiell didn’t just know about my brother, he’d taken steps to get Jack under his thumb. That’s what Jack’s whole move to LA had been about—Dashiell wanting to have better leverage over me, in case I got too uppity.

“You son of a bitch,” I hissed. “He’s my family. My only family.”

Dashiell’s vampire glow hummed as he gave me a mild smile and tucked the phone away, too quickly for my eyes to follow it. “Come, Scarlett, you must have realized I would have to take some measures to keep you...content with your place, let’s say.”

“But Jack...You started this with him way before we knew that I could do this!”

“Yes, wasn’t that lucky of me?”

I stared. Had he anticipated my new ability? It was entirely possible, even likely, that he knew way more about my power than I did. And I was pretty frickin’ sick of it.
That will have to change
, I thought grimly.

“Now, I have absolutely no intention of harming Jack. He’s quite a good researcher, or so I’m told. Lots of promise to go to medical school as well.”

My mouth snapped shut. Message received. Scarlett has to play well with others. I fully intended to do...
something
about this, but now wasn’t the time for that, either.

“Now, because you were so helpful to Beatrice and me,” Dashiell continued, “I will drop the issue of your young null friend—for the moment. You will spend a little time recovering, and then you’ll be back to work. For now, things will continue as they have been.” He looked at my face, his eyes narrowing, and I looked away. “But remember who you are, and who you work for, or things could become much less pleasant.”

I said nothing. The first thing I would do when I recovered, I promised myself, was go track down one of the other nulls.

After a moment, Dashiell stood up from his seat. “You are tiring, Scarlett. I will let you rest.”

“Wait,” I said, and he turned to face me. “Ariadne, she said something when Jesse and I talked to her...”

He frowned. “Beatrice told me she sent the two of you down to see her. What did she say?”

“She said to tell you...” I began and paused for breath. I really was tiring. “She hoped your writing was going better. What did that mean?”

Dashiell just stared at me until I started to feel uncomfortable. Finally, he sat back down in his chair. “All right, Scarlett. You saved Beatrice. I suppose I owe you a story. Do I need to go into why this must remain between us?”

I tried to shake my head, but it hurt. “No,” I whispered. I could have stopped him then—I didn’t really need to know—but now I was curious.

“I’m not as old as I may seem, Scarlett. With most vampires, power comes from age, but I was turned only two hundred years
ago. Do you know anything about English literature from that time?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Nothing past the average public school education.”

He allowed me a faint smile. “Let’s just say that while many vampires will boast about a relationship with a celebrity in their long lives, mine came before I was turned. In eighteen sixteen, I was a personal physician to the famous poet Lord Byron. That summer, he and I rented a house in Lake Geneva with some friends—Percy Shelley; Mary Godwin, his bride; and Mary’s stepsister, Claire.”

“
Frankenstein
,” I whispered.

“That’s right. The weather was horrible, and we were stuck indoors. One night, Byron read aloud from a book of horror stories and suggested we each write one. Mary started writing
The Modern Prometheus
—
Frankenstein
—on that trip. Percy wrote a number of short ghost stories, and Byron started a story, which came to be called
Fragment of a Novel
, about a vampire. Something spooked him, however, and shortly after the trip, he abandoned it.”

“What did you write?”

He waved a hand. “Claire and I, we were just what you’d call hangers-on. Neither of us had much talent for writing, but we wanted to be around the three of them so badly, we were determined to...play in their league, I suppose would be the phrase. Claire decided to throw herself at Byron, which started a great deal of anguish. And I...Well, I was foolish.” He leaned back in the chair. “I picked up Byron’s discarded story and tried to make it my own. I added every detail I could think of, from every silly vampire story I could find. Back then, vampires did what they wanted—Stoker’s book wouldn’t come out for nearly a century, and vampires were just folklore. When I tried to get the book published, however, I was visited by three of them.”

My eyes widened, and he smiled. “Oh, yes, they threatened me. I suspect they pressed my mind as well, because I awoke the
next morning with no desire to be a published author whatsoever. But in a stupid twist of fate, one of my servants passed a manuscript to someone, and the story was published without my permission.
The Vampyre
. They came for me that very night.”

“That’s how you were turned,” I said quietly.

“Yes. I believe they only did it so they could torment me further, but something strange happened. When I was ‘born,’ for the second time, I was more powerful than I should have been, with more control over myself. It happens that way every now and then. A few years later, after her affair with Byron had gone wrong and their young daughter had died, Claire came to me begging to be turned as well. Claire was always trying to find a cure for her restlessness, her endless search for self, and she had decided that being a vampire would solve all her problems. After two years of begging, I relented. She decided she was in love with me, which caused more anguish...” He lifted a shoulder in an elegant half shrug.

“Ariadne.”

“Yes.”

“Did it work? Did it make her happy?”

He frowned. “No. In fact, a few dozen years later, I met Beatrice and realized what love really felt like. And Claire was furious. So furious that she acted rashly, once again. She went to a young theater manager and failed novelist named Abraham Stoker, determined to give away secrets that would lead to the destruction of vampires. Luckily, Stoker was smart enough to do some...What would you call it? Fictionalizing.”

My jaw dropped open.

He saw it and smiled. “I won’t go any further into this particular drama. Suffice it to say that when you turned Ariadne—Claire—you did me a great favor. She was a thorn in my side for nearly two hundred years.”

He stood up again, straightening out his clothes. “Of course, if you tell anyone that story, I will shoot you in the chest.” He touched his forelock, as though tipping a hat, and just that quickly, he was gone again.

My jaw hung open.

I spent two more days in the hospital, sleeping and getting CT scans. I never asked who was in charge of supernatural cleanup while I was out, and Eli was in my hospital room every day. Maybe Kirsten, Dashiell, and Will were taking care of things themselves, or maybe they just ordered everyone to be cool for a week or so. I didn’t really care either way. I was more concerned with getting better. By the morning after Dashiell’s visit, I was starting to feel short, tingling bursts where the edges of my radius had been, like an electric fence struggling to turn itself on. I had also finally caught up on sleep, and was getting bored with the hospital.

Corry and her mother came to visit me on Thursday afternoon. Corry’s arm was in a neon-green cast, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she looked calm.

Her mother trembled as she took my hand. “Corry has explained some things to me,” she said tearfully, “but I still have a few questions. Perhaps you could come for coffee sometime when you feel better?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, glancing at Corry.

She nodded happily and turned to her mother. “Mom, could I have a second alone with Scarlett, please?”

Her mom hesitated, with: as if she might object but couldn’t come up with an excuse.

“You’ll be right outside the door, Mom,” she said softly. “We’ll leave the door open.”

Mrs. Tanger finally nodded and turned away. This was a very different woman from the one I had met only a few days before. This woman knew that her children could be hurt, that she could
become powerless to save them. It was a terrible thing to know, and the weight of it seemed to pull on her. I hoped she’d recover.

When she was gone, Corry took the chair on my right and dragged it close to the bed. “So...um...I guess thanks for saving my life and stuff,” she said, smiling hesitantly.

I laughed a little. “You’re welcome.” I pushed the button to raise my bed up, trying to get a better angle for talking to her. “How much are you telling your mom?”

“Not a lot, so far. She knows that I can do something that’s valuable to certain...I think the term I used was ‘criminal elements.’ She isn’t asking a whole lot of questions. I think she doesn’t want to know.”

“And your dad?”

Her smile was sad and wistful. “He’s just pretending the whole thing never happened—that we had a botched robbery or something.”