The Sunlight Slayings (13 page)

Then Dean exploded. “Oh my God!” He glared from Emalie to Oliver and back again. “The two of you are ridiculous. Get over yourselves! I'm the one who died! I'm the one who's a freakin' zombie! Was one of you raised from the dead by who-knows-who?”

“Well,” Oliver started, “but—”

“No.” He turned to Emalie. “I jumped down that sewer into the Underground. Nobody pushed me. You don't control me.” He turned to Oliver. “And you don't, either. But somebody does, so duh! Can we just figure out who already?”

“No,” Emalie said, biting her lip. She looked like she was thinking hard.

Dean threw his arms up. “What?”

“Dean, y-you're right,” she stammered. “I mean, I'm so sorry. We can find your master, but—” She looked coldly at Oliver. “I need to know first.”

“Know what?” asked Dean.

Oliver felt his thoughts locking together. “She needs to know if I killed you.”

Dean huffed. “I already said it doesn't matter who killed me.”

Oliver looked back to Emalie, meeting her cold gaze. “It does,” he said. Emalie's eyes didn't waver. “If we're ever going to be friends again, it does.”

Dean sagged. “I can't believe this. You know what? You two do it.” He reached toward Oliver. “Give me the locating stuff. I'll get my mom to help me or something.”

“No, Dean,” Emalie said, “we need your help—”

“No you don't!” Dean shouted. “This is all about you two! And honestly, you guys never really need my help. All I did was get in the way when I was alive, what's the difference now?”

“Dean, come on,” Oliver said, “that's not true.”

“Tell me that when I was alive you didn't want me dead, or at least out of the way.”

“I—” Oliver began, but Dean was completely right. “I mean, maybe a little, but things have changed. We're friends now.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “Except when I'm emptying your stupid dishwasher.”

“We'll straighten that out, Dean, it's just been crazy!”

“I know, but … hello! It's been crazier for me!” He pinched at the dead skin on his forearm as if to point out all he'd gone through, and a piece actually came free. “Guh,” Dean groaned, and stormed off.

“You're right,” Oliver called after him.

“Yeah I am.”

“Dean, wait!” Emalie called. Oliver heard the sewer door creak open, then slam.

Oliver and Emalie were left alone. They both looked anywhere but at each other.

“Bane?” Phlox called down the stairs. “Is that you?”

“Dean left,” Oliver called.

“Oh,” Phlox said worriedly. “All right.”

Oliver waited, thoughts flying around in his head, trying to find some that made sense. Upstairs, Phlox's busy kitchen sounds returned. “How are we going to prove I didn't kill Dean?”

“The same way I've been trying to all month,” Emalie explained. “I've traveled into the memories of almost every person who was there that night.”

“That's what you were doing in my dream,” said Oliver.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were trying to drive me crazy. I—I heard that Orani can do that.”

Emalie half-laughed, but gazed at him oddly. “You know about that. Me being Orani.”

“I—I did some research. I was hoping to tell you sometime—”

“I found my mom's old notebooks,” Emalie said, looking at the floor. “She left them with her darkroom stuff. I always thought it was just junk, but I found out a lot about me, or us. Her and me. It's always nice to know there's a reason why you're a freak.” She kind of smiled.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed. He felt an amazing gust of relief, as their conversation was becoming more normal, like it used to be.

“There was an enchantment,” Emalie continued, “for traveling into people's memories while they're asleep. I know what
I
remember from that night, but I thought, well, I thought it was possible that there was more to it.”

Oliver wondered what to say. He had been right about Emalie all along. The article, the hope that there was still a chance … He felt like saying
thank you
, but kept quiet.

Emalie continued, “I've been into most of the schoolkids' memories, and yours.… I can tell there's something there. It's like reality's been changed. Something's messing with all the memories, but whatever it is I can't get around it. Nothing works.” She looked up. “I thought you could help. Maybe you or Dean can see something I can't, but—”

Oliver caught the faintest advance smell, and suddenly he lunged at Emalie. “What!” she cried, but Oliver threw a hand over her mouth. In a lightning motion he lifted her up and dumped her into his coffin.

The basement door slammed open. Bane's boots rocketed up the stairs.

Oliver leaned over Emalie, whispering: “Stay in here for a minute, don't make a sound—you have to do this, or he'll kill you.”

Emalie's eyes were wide. She had no reason to trust him now—but she nodded.

Oliver shut the lid.

Bane swept into the room. “Hey—” Oliver began, but Bane rushed at him and slammed him in the chest with both hands. Oliver flew across the room and hit the wall. He crumpled to the ground, his side and back screaming. He tried to speak, but his chest was clenched too tight.

“That felt good,” Bane hissed. He glared at Oliver, his eyes burning. “I almost had her tonight, bro.”

“What are you—”

“Your girlfriend!” Bane shouted. “Your murderer girlfriend. You know she's doing it, don't you?” Bane paced between the coffins.

Oliver slowly stood up, staying against the wall. “How do you know it's her?” he asked.

“I just know,” Bane growled. “We watched her go down into the sewers tonight, then we waited for her. Started tracking her the minute she came back to the surface. We followed her to this little park on Queen Anne, and wouldn't you know, she sits down and goes all into this trance. We started toward her and suddenly she's up and firing at us before we could even react.”

Bane grabbed Oliver by the shirt and pinned him up on the wall. “Randall lost an
arm
, lamb! And what are you doing about it? Hiding out here at home with Mommy? It's your fault she's out there dusting us! You had to go make friends with her.”

Oliver was listening, but he was distracted by the sight, over Bane's shoulder, of Emalie cracking open the coffin lid and peering out.

“What?” Bane dropped Oliver and spun around. The lid was already closed again. He sniffed the air, then turned back to Oliver. “Your little servant's not going to come save you. I saw him leaving.”

Oliver sighed inside. Bane hadn't sensed Emalie. And over Bane's shoulder, Oliver now saw a faint smoky shadow curling up from behind his coffin. It was barely visible, but Oliver recognized the wraith, protecting Emalie, keeping her scentless.

Bane shoved Oliver again, then turned and headed out. “I'll find her, and it's going to be so good when I do. Maybe I'll bring you home a souvenir.” He stormed upstairs.

Oliver shook with anger. He walked back over to the coffin, which was slowly opening again. Emalie looked at Oliver wide-eyed. “What was he talking about? I—”

“Just get out of here,” Oliver said coldly. “Go home, where it's safe.” He didn't know whether to believe her—the way she seemed to have no clue about the Scourge—but all that mattered right now was that she got out of his house before someone found her. “I'll try to get out after dinner, and I'll meet you in your basement, if—if I'm still invited in.” He looked at her uncertainly.

Emalie slid out of the coffin. “You are.” She turned for the door. “I'll see you later.” She headed quietly down the back stairs, the faintest black shadow trailing her as she went.

Oliver spent the rest of the night at home, restless. He sat in the kitchen and made a show of working on his homework, but got almost none of it done. Bane headed back out a few hours later, ranting about vengeance. Oliver listened worriedly, but Bane didn't mention Emalie. Oliver wondered why Bane hadn't told Phlox or Sebastian that he knew it was her. Maybe because he wanted to kill her himself.

Oliver ate dinner alone in front of the TV. Phlox was too wound up to sit and eat, and Sebastian wasn't coming home.

He waited another hour after dinner, then told his mom that his wounds still hurt, and that he was just going to go to bed early. He changed into pajamas, walked back upstairs to say good night, then returned to the crypt and changed right back into his clothes and sweatshirt and sneakers. He collected every dirty piece of his clothing that was either around his coffin or in the laundry and piled it in his coffin to keep his scent in the air, then he closed the lid, grabbed the bag from Désirée's out of his dresser, and stole off into the predawn darkness.

Chapter 11

Into the Memory

EMALIE'S HOUSE WAS DARK
. Oliver approached from the alley. Sunrise was still an hour or two away, but the first birds and alarm clocks were beginning to chirp. He found the back door open and Emalie sitting on the floor in her tiny space among the cardboard boxes, back against the washing machine. A thick pillar candle stood lit beside her, and Emalie was squinting hard at a beat-up spiral notebook.

“Hey,” she said as Oliver entered the room.

He hid his surprise, as he'd been moving as quietly as he could. Emalie's work as an Orani had heightened her senses. Oliver crossed the room warily, still the slightest bit unsure of whether another Scourge attack was coming. “Hey.” He started to sit down when something hissed beneath him.

“Amey, shush,” Emalie said. A tiny tan kitten darted away from Oliver, hiding in the shadows, where its luminescent eyes were joined by a second pair. “Don't mind them,” said Emalie, “Amethyst and Jade were my Christmas present from Dad.”

Oliver nodded. He wasn't sure what to say so he looked around the room. The string where Emalie had hung photos was empty. “Taken any new pictures?” he asked.

Emalie just huffed lightly. “Camera's ruined.”

“Oh. How's your dad?” Oliver asked. “Still the same?”

“No he's not the same,” Emalie huffed, glaring at him. “Nothing's the
same
. It's been, like, two months!” She looked back down at the notebook. “But he's a little better. He got a job down at the docks. My great-aunt Kathleen hired him for her salmon-fishing business.”

Oliver watched her as she read. “Is that your mom's notebook?”

“Yeah.” She flipped it closed. “I've been reading it. After Dean …” She trailed off.

“How did you know?” Oliver asked carefully. “I mean, that Dean was back?”

Emalie shrugged. “I go to his grave a lot,” she said softly. “It's peaceful there. One night I saw the mess after he climbed out. Then I walked up to his little brother at school and just said, really quick:
How's Dean?
And he was like:
Good
, and then he realized what I'd asked and he freaked out. So I watched them through their window one night, and I saw him. I know he's been following me lately. He's not so subtle.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed.

“You've been … good to him,” Emalie said quietly.

“I just—”

“I didn't want to see him until I was sure what had happened that night.”

“Well, he wanted to come see you right from the start,” Oliver admitted. “I told him not to, 'cause I wanted to find out what had happened, too.”

“Do you think he'll come around?” Emalie asked.

“Yes,” Dean's voice muttered tiredly from the shadows. Emalie and Oliver turned to find Dean trudging into the basement. He dropped to the floor beside Oliver. “Let's get this over with so we can get on to stuff that matters.”

“Hey, Dean,” Oliver said.

“Hi,” Emalie added.

There was a moment of silence. It felt like each of them was just about to speak—

“God, let's just do this already,” Dean groaned.

Emalie nodded and flipped the notebook pages. “My mom found out she was an Orani from her aunt,” she offered, like she knew what Oliver was wondering. “It skips around in families. Not everybody is one.”

“But you are.”

“Yeah.” Emalie sighed, “I guess. I got the hang of this memory visiting pretty quickly.” Her tone lightened a bit. “It's kinda cool. You put this talisman outside a person's window or nearby somewhere.” She held up a large, weathered gray coin. Oliver could see the marks where it had been hammered by hand. In the center was a simple diamond shape, with two dots side by side inside it.

“It's called a memory rite. It works like a door into the person's mind. You use it while they're asleep so that you can be in their heads without them knowing.” She put down the coin and produced the small flask that Oliver had watched her buy in the Yomi. “So then you sit near the person's house and rub a drop of this stuff on the inside of each wrist, and then you try to relax, and then, well, then things get weird and you end up inside somebody's head.”

“And once you're in there you can find the memories you want?” Oliver asked.

“You have to wander around for a while, but yeah,” Emalie continued. “It's not too hard. It's like, you can kind of feel your way to the right memories. And everyone who was in the gym that night has been so scared and thinking about it a lot, so the memories are near the surface. I think I might show up in kids' dreams while I'm in there.”

“Yeah, I saw you in mine,” said Oliver. More pieces were clicking together in his thoughts. “Wait, so were you doing this enchantment earlier tonight?”

“Well, yeah …” Emalie said. “I had to get more of this”—she shook the flask— “and then I went over to Ms. Reynolds's house, that's the choral teacher, and I went into her mind, but I didn't find out anything new.”