The Sunlight Slayings (22 page)

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Chapter 1

An Uneasy Quiet

THERE WERE SOME THINGS
that Oliver Nocturne enjoyed about school. One was whenever Mr. VanWick was giving a history lecture and he was listening intently and no one around him was talking or snickering at him. Another was … well, lately that had been pretty much it. Maybe the only other thing he enjoyed about school was that tonight was the last night.

But the torture wasn't over yet.

Oliver was sitting on a single chair outside the door to his classroom. They'd had early dismissal, around two a.m., same as every other night during this awful month of June. The summer solstice was a week away, and the sun was so strong that even a cloudy day was dangerously bright. And because Seattle was so far north, the sun rose at nearly four in the morning and didn't set until almost ten at night. It was close to four now, and sickly dawn light was beaming into the hall from every doorway. Oliver's seat was positioned in a narrow rectangle of shadow.

The classroom door was closed. Faint murmurs echoed from inside. Oliver's parents were in there, having their parent-teacher conference with Mr. VanWick. It was the end of Oliver's fourth year of his eighth Pentath of school. A Pentath was five human years long. Since vampires aged about one year for every five human years, this meant that he was nearing the end of seventh grade. He had one more year, and then he would move on to his ninth Pentath, which was like eighth grade.

In eighth grade, all bets were off, because the moment a vampire received his demon, he graduated immediately to high school. If your demon came early, you might only spend a year in the ninth Pentath, or you could end up like Bane had, spending eight years there, until he was the only one left in his class.

High school was the promised land: no dress code, no books, no homework, just hanging out discussing the world and learning the advanced powers that only a fully demonized vampire could achieve, like Occupying animals and Evanescence, where a vampire could move as mist. There were entire lectures devoted to causing chaos, driving humans mad, corrupting governments, committing thievery and fraud, and on and on.

But all that was a long way off for Oliver. Between now and then, there was at least one more year of dress shirts and ties, textbooks and homework. Plus, Oliver wasn't sure if high school was something that his future even held. Unlike any other vampire child, he already knew who his demon was: Illisius.

Oliver knew this because he was the first in his class to have a demon dream, which signaled that your demon was on its way. In that first dream, Illisius had told Oliver that he was destined to open the Nexia Gate. Nexia was the central world of the universe. Opening the Gate would free all the vampires from Earth, allowing them to roam the higher worlds as spirits. No more sunlight or stakes or troublesome skin molds or even high school to worry about.

So what was the point of trying to do well in school, or even going? What was the point of suffering through these awful parent-teacher conferences if your destiny was to put an end to them? It made Oliver want to just get up and leave right now—

“Oliver.” The door beside him had opened, and Mr. VanWick was peering out. Oliver felt a nervous twinge in his gut as he got to his feet and entered the classroom.

Large black curtains had been pulled down against the relentless early-morning light. Mr. VanWick returned to the far corner of the room. His desk was behind a folded screen for extra darkness. Oliver's parents, Phlox and Sebastian, sat before the desk, an empty chair between them. Oliver trudged toward the seat. He watched as both his parents glanced up at him, then away with barely a change in expression. They didn't look happy. Then again, when was the last time they
had
looked happy with Oliver?

“Your parents and I have been discussing your year,” Mr. VanWick began as Oliver slumped into the empty chair. “I have explained to them that despite how your studies have suffered from apparent
distractions
both in and out of school, you have compiled satisfactory marks. You've had success in history, which I have been pleased to see. And yet Ms. Estreylla reported that you rarely handed in your homework in Multi-World Math and barely passed.”

Oliver shrugged. He liked history very much, actually. He thought Force Awareness and Manipulation, which was like gym class, was okay, too, except for the uniforms. Math was just boring. And he didn't get it. He was always getting lost.

“Oliver,” said Phlox, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“No,” Oliver mumbled.

Oliver heard Sebastian shift in his chair and braced for what his father might say, but he was silent.

“I also conveyed to your parents my feeling,” Mr. VanWick continued, “that despite the
events s
urrounding Valentine's Day, and your social difficulties with your peers, that you have been a satisfactory participant in your Pentath, though there is room for improvement.” Mr. VanWick offered what may have been a kind glance, though it was hard to make out the character of his eyes beneath his bushy eyebrows.

“Okay,” said Oliver. He hadn't
felt
satisfactory since Valentine's Day, when a group known as the Brotherhood of the Fallen had used his human friend Emalie to try to slay him with sunlight. Their leader, Braiden Lang, had said that Oliver could not be allowed to open the Gate, but he hadn't said why. Oliver still didn't get that: Why would humans even care about the Gate? They barely understood their own short lives, never mind the larger universe. Most of them didn't even realize that there were vampires living among them. And for those who did, like the Brotherhood, well, why would they mind the Gate being opened? That was going to make all the vampires go away.

Saving Emalie from the Brotherhood had put an end to the short period of time during which Oliver's vampire schoolmates had thought that he was interesting and cool. Now he was considered the biggest freak in his class because he hung out with a human rather than his own kind. Nobody minded that Oliver also hung out with a zombie, Emalie's cousin Dean, because all the vampires, including his parents, thought that Oliver had killed Dean and raised him as a servant. Only Oliver, Emalie, and Dean knew the truth: Someone else had killed and raised Dean, someone whose identity remained a mystery.

“So … summer break should help,” said Mr. VanWick, “and we will look forward to next year.” He held a large packet of papers out over the desk.

“What's that?” Oliver asked.

Phlox reached out and took it. “This is your summer math work. We thought it would be a good idea to keep you busy.”

“Have a tolerable summer,” Mr. VanWick said, pushing back from his seat and sipping from his stained goblet.

The Nocturnes walked quietly down the empty hallway, weaving back and forth to avoid the slanting rectangles of sunlight. They took the stairs to the lower hall, headed to its end, then descended into the basement boiler room, where a small rusted door in a cobwebbed corner led to the sewers.

As they walked home in silence, Oliver felt none of the excitement that one might feel about being out of school for two months. Part of that had to do with the long quiet moments that he and his parents had been having, like right now. Since Valentine's Day, being around them had felt, well, uneasy. On the one hand, his parents knew about Emalie.
Get over it … over her,
Phlox had said. And yet Oliver had done nothing of the sort. He and Dean had been hanging out with Emalie all spring. Oliver just had to do it in secret, though for all he knew, maybe his parents knew he was still hanging out with her. They had a habit of knowing things without telling him.

On the other hand, his parents had to realize that part of the reason why Oliver was having trouble in school and hanging out with a human was their fault. He hadn't asked to be sired, which meant that he had been turned into a vampire from a human baby. Siring a child was supposed to be impossible. All the other vampire kids were made from the DNA of their parents and grown in a lab. And he hadn't asked to be created to fulfill the prophecy of opening the Nexia Gate, a fact that led people in brotherhoods to try to kill him. So in a way, wasn't anything that was weird about him really his parents' fault? Oliver felt like they had to know that, and that was part of why they were so quiet and part of why, even though they'd told him to get over Emalie, they didn't seem to be keeping that close an eye on him.

The Nocturnes reached the sewer beneath their street, passing thick wooden doors set in either side of the stone walls. There was one for each underground vampire house on Twilight Lane. Their house was number sixteen. They entered and wound up a stone spiral staircase, lit with sconces of amber magmalight, to the kitchen. They'd just finished hanging their coats in the closet when Oliver's older brother, Bane, came bounding in from the living room.

“Did he flunk out?” Bane quipped, smirking.

“Now, Charles,” Phlox warned, but her voice had none of the frustration that it used to get when Bane was harassing Oliver. Instead, as she crossed the kitchen and flicked on the plasma screen above the sink, she almost seemed to relax.

“Hello, son,” said Sebastian. “Oliver's conference was fine.” He headed downstairs to change.

“Boo.” Bane popped open the refrigerator, grabbing a Coke. He opened a cookie jar on the counter and took out a length of candied tapeworm. His arm whipped out, and the bright red ribbon shot toward Oliver. “Think fast, bro!”

Oliver barely got his hands up in time to slap it away. He scowled. “Knock it off, foot rot!”

Bane just laughed. “Ooh, watch out.” He spun and thrust his other arm, like he was throwing the Coke can—

“Whu!” Oliver cringed.

“Ha! Gotcha. Dork.” Bane snapped open the can and began chugging it.

Oliver watched as, once again, Phlox said nothing. It used to be that she would scold Bane for acting this way, but Bane was the favorite son now. Was he unstable and moody? Sure, but Bane was also a real vampire, who had fought alongside his father against the Brotherhood in the Space Needle.

“How many nights until we leave, Mom?” Bane asked.

Phlox looked up from putting away a selection of long cutting blades. “Just three, honey. I know you can wait a little longer.”

“Barely,” Bane scowled. “I
gotta
get out of here.”

Bane was referring to their upcoming vacation. The Nocturnes had been invited by Sebastian's employer, the Half-Light Consortium, to go to Isla Necrata, an elite, invitation-only resort that always changed locations to be near a large natural phenomenon of some kind: preferably a volcanic eruption, but an earthquake or a tsunami was fine, too. Isla Necrata's location was always kept secret to insure a private resort experience, but it would no doubt be somewhere interesting. Oliver was excited about the trip—he enjoyed travel—and he couldn't imagine anywhere he could be right now that would be worse than Seattle, considering how things had been going for him.

“Destruction and devastation!” Bane cheered to himself.

“Now, Charles, just because you get to carouse with your cousins does not mean that you're going to lose control, does it?”

Bane smiled devilishly, then unleashed a mammoth belch. “Of course not, Mom.”

Phlox nodded, again with all the patience in the world for Bane's antics. She sighed. “Well, at least one of us is looking forward to seeing your relatives.”

They were leaving for Isla Necrata a few days early to see Phlox's extended family along the way, in the Underworld city of Morosia. It was hard to say whether that part of the trip would be any fun. It was always nice to see the grandparents. And Bane would be preoccupied with running wild and raiding human towns and such with their teenage cousins, so Oliver wouldn't have to deal with him.

But still, since Oliver didn't have a demon, he would be left behind with his parents, who would be enduring endless torment from
their
disapproving parents. That part was kind of enjoyable to watch, because Oliver's grandparents had a pleasant double standard: On the one hand, they spoiled Oliver and treated him like the world's greatest thing, while on the other hand, they constantly criticized Phlox and Sebastian for their New World ways, even though it was
those
ways that had led to Oliver's existence. In the Old World, there were no children, only teens who had been sired and had demons. But the fun of watching his parents get treated like bad kids was tempered by the bad mood it put them in, which Oliver then had to deal with.

“Speaking of the trip,” said Phlox, turning to the counter, “you should get started on this right away.” She pushed the math homework toward Oliver.

“Can't it wait?” Oliver couldn't help whining a little. “Vacation just started.”