The Sunlight Slayings (9 page)

Once again, Oliver felt a wave of worry for Emalie, and yet this time, he almost wondered why. Was it a coincidence that for the second time, someone standing right beside him had been slain by the Scourge? There was no way. Despite how much he wanted to believe otherwise—
What about when she gave me that clipping about my parents?
—there was only one explanation: Emalie was trying to slay him. And now she was being hunted, and the hunters wanted more than blood, they wanted vengeance. When Oliver wondered what he wanted, he found that he had no idea.

When they arrived home, Phlox escorted Oliver to the couch, and busied over him, tending to his burns. She had to cut his button-down shirt away from his right forearm, where the fabric had gotten stuck to the burned skin. She spread Poultice of Puffer Fish over the blackened, still-steaming area. The burns on his legs weren't as bad and needed only a Cream of Curare and peppermint leaves, and then thick bandages. By some stroke of luck, Oliver didn't have any serious burns on his torso, and so had been able to keep his T-shirt on, the aching amulet wound hidden. When Phlox was out of the room, Oliver pulled a throw pillow from the couch and placed it across his abdomen as if he was holding it for comfort.

“Okay,” Phlox said, rushing back in for perhaps the tenth time. “I'd take you to Dr. Vincent, but I'm sure he's busy with the more serious cases.”

“I was lucky.” Oliver sighed.

“Lucky,” Phlox repeated, her voice thick with worry. “That girl was right beside you, it could have been …” She trailed off, handing him a goblet. It was steaming hot. Oliver smelled a combination of bear blood, krait venom, and crushed sangre del fuego peppers. The venom was a pain reliever, the hot peppers for relaxation. “Drink it all,” Phlox said, “and rest.”

Oliver drank, then lay back, but there was little hope of rest. As the pain of his wounds slowly lessened, the amulet wound slowest of all, his thoughts careened about.
Emalie is trying to kill me
, he thought miserably. Ever since that first day of school in January, when he'd found the newspaper clipping she'd left him, he'd assumed that there was still a chance that they could be friends. But something had changed. Human hearts were said to heal over time, but sometimes they could be broken beyond repair.…

The hours of the evening passed. Phlox bustled about. It seemed like she'd cleaned and reorganized the entire house by the time dawn arrived.

Bane eventually returned home. Oliver heard his boots on the stairs, then crossing the kitchen. He opened his eyes slightly and saw Bane peering into the dark living room.

“You're home,” Phlox said with relief.

Bane turned away. “How is he?” Oliver was surprised to hear Bane ask that.

“He'll be fine,” Phlox said assuredly.

“All right. I'm going to bed.” Bane headed downstairs.

Sometime later, Sebastian peered into the room. Oliver continued his ruse of sleep.

“Did you find them?” he heard Phlox ask quietly.

“No,” Sebastian murmured. “But we have a lead. We think it's a human, but whoever it is has some kind of cloaking power. There were barely any scent traces. It's mystical power, but we'll get around it next time.”

“What do you mean next time?” Phlox hissed. “Next time a child is turned to dust?”

“No, Phlox, relax … we're not going to let any more kids—”

“It's been too many already!” she cried. “I want whoever's doing this to pay.”

“They will,” Sebastian said quietly. “There's an emergency Council meeting downtown in a couple hours. You should go. It will do you good. For now, let him sleep.”

Oliver heard them descending the stairs. Phlox's last words lingered in his mind—
I want whoever's doing this to pay
—and he was surprised by the thought he had next:
Maybe Emalie should pay
. Maybe she'd only given him that article to lower his defenses.
How can I think that?
But he found that he did. He might not have a demon yet, but he was a vampire, and this human girl was trying to turn him to dust.
But it's Emalie
. And yet, with his classmates being slain right in front of him … Maybe it was the pain of his wounds talking, but Oliver couldn't keep out the surprisingly dark thoughts:
Maybe I'll find her first, only this time, I really will make my first kill
.

Chapter 8

Safe Passage

OLIVER AWOKE THE NEXT
evening to Phlox informing him that school was canceled for the rest of the week. Once she'd checked his wounds and saw that they were healing normally, he retreated downstairs to find that the same could not be said for the amulet wound. Oliver had to pull at the bandage, and it peeled away from his skin with a slight tearing sound. He winced, watching as a fresh dollop of brown bacterial infection dripped out of the wound and splattered on the stone floor. The red lines on his torso now spidered over his shoulder and almost up to his neck. They had doubled in size.

He taped a new bandage on, hearing the door to the sewers open and shut as he did so.

“Look who's here!” Phlox said brightly as Oliver entered the kitchen moments later.

Oliver didn't see anyone. Then Dean popped up from behind the kitchen island. “Hey,” he said, frowning. He was holding a handful of dishes, which he carried over to the cabinets.

“I'm just having him unload the dishwasher since you were getting ready,” said Phlox nonchalantly, as if such a thing was completely normal for a servant.

Oliver felt a surge of embarrassment. “Dean, you can stop now,” he said quietly.

Dean looked uncertainly from Oliver to Phlox. She raised her eyebrows skeptically, but nodded. “What your master says, goes, of course.”

“Come on,” Oliver said quickly.

Looking relieved, Dean put the stack of dishes on the island.

They retreated to the living room and dropped to the long couch.

“Sorry about that,” Oliver muttered to Dean.

“I think your mom thinks you're my master,” Dean said, looking at Oliver uncertainly.

“Oh, y-yeah,” Oliver said quickly, “she's just confused.”

“Why would she think that?” Dean wondered aloud.

Oliver looked for a trace of suspicion on Dean's face, but didn't see one. “I don't know. I'll straighten it out with her later.”

“Cool.” Dean seemed to accept the story. He looked cautiously at Oliver. “So I heard about what happened. Mom let me take the night off, too, to see how you're doing.”

“Thanks,” said Oliver. “I'm all right. Got a couple burns, but that's it.”

Dean glanced toward the kitchen and lowered his voice. “Was it—”

Oliver nodded. “I saw her.”

“Oh, man …” Dean's brow worked. “But why is she doing it?”

Oliver just shrugged.

“And why would she attack places where you were? It's not like she'd
want
to slay you …”

“I—” Oliver's thoughts raced. “Well, she's used the Scourge in a bunch of other places. Bad luck, I guess. Obviously she hasn't been aiming for me.” Oliver hated himself for lying again.

“Right.” Dean nodded. “So now what?”

“Well, my dad and his people will find her,” Oliver said darkly, “and that will be that.”

“Hey!” Dean slapped Oliver on the shoulder. “What are you talking about? We need to stop her before she gets killed!”

“Why?” Oliver sulked.

“'cause she's Emalie! What's going on with you?”

“Well …” Oliver didn't know what to say. Again, if he said that he thought she really was trying to kill him, Dean would want to know why.
Just tell him
. Oliver cursed himself inside. This issue of whether he'd killed Dean was just like when Emalie had been visiting his house back in December. Oliver hadn't told his parents, and then enough time went by that the fact that he hadn't told them was just as bad as what he would have been telling them in the first place.

At this point, Dean might be mad not only that Oliver was believed to have killed him but also that he'd been keeping this from Dean and not trusting him. But so what if Dean got mad for a while? He'd get over it.
But I need him now, Oliver realized, because I actually do want to stop Emalie before she gets killed
.

There was that troubling thought. Despite her attempts to kill him, it was true: Oliver wanted to stop her, wanted to hang on to that last shred of hope that they could be friends again. It was easier to remember that when Dean was around, since they had Emalie in common.

“No, nothing,” Oliver said. “Fine. You're right, we have to tell her. We should probably go find her now—”

“Oliver.” Phlox stuck her head into the room. “I'm heading to the Underground and I want you to come with me.”

“Why can't I just stay here?”

“Because I want you with me, considering what's out there. Your father agrees.”

“But,” Oliver protested, “wouldn't I be safer here?”

Phlox's eyes narrowed. “You're safer where I can see and protect you.”

Oliver could see an argument here, but he could also see in Phlox's eyes that it wasn't one worth fighting. “Fine,” he grumbled, “just a sec.” Once Phlox left the room, Oliver turned back to Dean. “Well, at least I might have a chance to get the Mortar from Désirée. You go find Emalie and keep an eye on her.”

“Should I tell her what's up?”

“No, wait till I get there.”

“How are you going to get away from your mom?”

Oliver had no idea. “I'll think of something,” he said, trying to sound on top of things.

“Roger,” said Dean, and hopped up to go.

“Dean,” Oliver added, “her house is the only place she's safe. No uninvited vampires can get in. If she tries to leave, you have to stop her.”

“How am I going to do that?” Dean thought for a second. “Oh, you mean like knock her out or something?”

“Yeah.” Oliver nodded. “But gently. Remember, you have superhuman strength now.”

“Got it.” Dean ducked out of the room.

As Oliver gingerly got to his feet, he heard Phlox from the other room: “Dean, can you just give the floor a quick sweep after Oliver and I leave—”

“Mom!” Oliver shouted. “Let him go already!”

“All right, some other time, then.”

Oliver had barely reached the doorway when Phlox flashed by him. “Come on, honey.” She slipped on a long white wool coat and hurried down the stairs. Oliver followed slowly, grabbing his sweatshirt from a set of hooks on the wall, feeling freshly annoyed. This whole rushing around thing was just how Phlox always got when she was worried and stressed. It was like she'd forgotten that she wanted him to rest.

“What's the hurry?” he said grumpily, his side aching, trailing a few paces behind Phlox as they weaved through the tunnels.

Phlox turned, and her eyes were already glowing turquoise. “The hurry,” she snapped, “is so that we're not caught off guard by someone trying to turn you to dust.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, but he also knew that she was right to be concerned.

The tunnels were busy with vampires, many shepherding their children with them. Giggling and horseplay echoed as kids crawled around the walls and ceiling. Oliver noticed overwhelmed looks on many parents' faces. They were probably second-guessing their decision to shut down the schools right about now.

Oliver also noticed burly vampires at the tunnel intersections. He'd never seen security down here before. Outside the double doors into the Underground stood four black-coated vampire guards, watching the passersby carefully.

As they crossed the top, ringed level of the Underground Center, Oliver lagged behind. All this security had given him a thought.

Phlox glanced back, annoyed at his pace, and he made a show of grabbing his arm. Her face softened. “Your burns?”

“They're making me feel weak,” Oliver moaned. “Can't I just sit down or something?”

They were right by the food court. Oliver watched as Phlox surveyed the area, which was literally crawling with guards: They were on the walls and ceiling as well as among the tables.

“Well,” hummed Phlox, “fine.” She dipped into her handbag, then dropped a few
myna
in Oliver's hand. “Get something and
don't leave
. My errands won't take too long. I'll meet you right back here.”

“Thanks.” Oliver added a pleasant smile. He started toward All Things Rodent, then turned to watch Phlox disappear into the crowd. After a minute, he took off toward the nearest levitation gap. A stop at Désirée's shouldn't take him long—

“Oliver!” He spun to see Dean running toward him through the crowd, creating a commotion of upturned noses.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver hissed.

“It's Emalie.”

Oliver felt a surge of worry. “Did they find her?”

“No.” Dean leaned close and his voice dropped to a whisper: “She's
here
.”

“What? What do you mean
here
?”

“I mean here, in the Underground, right now.”

“But—”

“I know,” said Dean, “but I couldn't do it! She was walking out the basement door, and I was right there ready to, you know”—Dean made an awkward chopping motion with his arm—“but I flinched, and then it was like I lost sight of her.”

“How could you lose sight of her?”

Dean shrugged. “She's using something, some kind of dark cloud. I could barely keep track of her, and it's like on the elevators nobody even knew she was there.”

“What elevators?”

“Those express ones, you know, down to the charion trains.”

Oliver couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Did she get on a train?”

“No, she kept going past them, back into those caverns down there, and then, well, then I came to find you, because I think—I think she's going into the Yomi.”