The Vanishing Vampire (6 page)

I leaped off my seat and sped from the room. Some part of me, some newly gained cunning or some century-old survival wisdom made me hide the real reason for my flight behind a loud stream of gagging sounds. I held my hand over my mouth, pretending the total opposite of what I felt. Behind me, I heard laughter.

I ran to the boys' room. I burst inside. There were a couple of kids hanging out. I looked past them at the row of mirrors over the sinks. No good. I turned and dashed out. I ran right into Miss Clevis.

“It's okay, Sebastian,” she said, giving me an understanding smile. “The first time I saw blood, I fainted dead away. I just dropped to the floor like a rock. But now, I can slice up a frog without giving it a second thought.
Swish, swish, snick,
” she said, swinging an imaginary scalpel. “You can get used to anything. Really.”

“I guess so.”

“I'll let you decide. Come back if you think you can handle it, or just spend the period in the media center. Look up blood in the encyclopedia and read about what we're doing.”

“That sounds good. Thanks.”

I walked toward the media center, trying to regain control of my instincts.

I was hungry.

Maybe it was a good idea to read about blood. Maybe I was going in the wrong direction, reading about vampires. Those books held stories that were mostly myth, superstition, and misinformation. I needed facts.

And I needed them soon.

I was hungry.

 

Thirteen

TRAPPED

I read everything I could find about blood. Since I didn't know which information would be important, I couldn't afford to skip anything. Even so, it didn't take long. If I wanted, I could read the normal way. But I could also just look at a page and know everything on it immediately.

Norman found me in the library. “I got a call last night from that Teridakian guy,” he whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear us.

“The vampire hunter?” I whispered back. The phrase left a bitter feeling on my tongue.

He nodded. “The guy wants to talk to me. He asked me to meet him in town tonight, in front of the courthouse. I think I'd better go and find out what he wants. Maybe we can learn something.”

“I should come.”

He shook his head. “He might know that you've changed. He might be able to look at you and tell. It's too dangerous.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I can't let him see me. I'll hide and listen.”

I got through the rest of the school day without any more problems. A couple of kids made some stupid comments about what had happened in science. I ignored them. I would have done the same thing if it had been someone else running out of the room and gagging from the sight of a drop of blood.

I wrapped up in my coat and scarf again before leaving the school. When I got home, I stopped in the hall and removed all the extra clothing. Mom was in the kitchen, with a bunch of bags of groceries. I could see she was in the middle of unloading the car. “How was school?” she asked.

“Fine. What's up?” I pointed to the bags.

“I signed up to help with the PTA dinner. The theme this year is Festival in Italy.” She sighed. “I'll be baking all afternoon. Would you like to help?”

“No thanks. Want me to get any bags from the car?” As I asked, I realized that I couldn't go out without my scarf and stuff. Through the window, I could see the car in the driveway, sitting in a puddle of sunshine.

“Thanks, but there's just one more bag to bring in. I can handle it.”

“Is Dad in his workshop?”

She nodded. “He's working on that big order. He'd probably like some company.”

I went downstairs. There was something comforting about moving below the ground. Dad has a workshop in the basement. He's a silversmith. He makes jewelry and all kinds of other things. It was a good thing I hadn't been turned into a werewolf. Imagine what that would be like, living over all kinds of silver. If the legends were right, that was the one thing that could kill a werewolf.

“How's it going?” I called as I got to the bottom step. I had to raise my voice so he could hear me over the music. Dad always listens to music while he works.

“Great. I got a big order from the Hemnetz Company for some custom jewelry. It's a real good project. Actually, it was my idea. Everyone likes birthstones, right?”

“Right,” I said, reaching the doorway. Dad's workshop was just around the wall on the other side of the stairs.

“So, I said to myself, what's something different we can do with birthstones? People get tired of the same old rings and bracelets. So guess what I came up with?”

“What?” I asked, walking through the opening into the workshop.

He smiled and held up his handiwork. “Crosses,” he said, waving one in my face. “Crosses with a small birthstone in the center. Isn't that a great idea for a necklace?”

They were everywhere. All over the room, silver crosses dangled—each with a tiny gemstone in the center. A force like a giant windstorm almost threw me back. I turned my head, moving away, stumbling toward the stairs, feeling as weak as a baby.

“Sebastian?” Dad called. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I just remembered I have a ton of homework. That's real great about the order, Dad. Nice work. They look super.” I crawled up the steps.

As I reached the top of the stairs, another force hit me, surging through my body like a jolt of electricity. I was faced with a horrible odor. It formed a wall that I couldn't pass through.

I scurried down a few steps. Above, I heard voices.

“Wow, it smells wonderful in here,” Angelina said.

“It's for the PTA,” Mom told her.

“How much do you have to make?” Angelina asked.

“Twenty loaves,” Mom said.

Loaves? Then it sank in. She was making garlic bread. She was making a ton and a half of garlic bread.
Blam
. I couldn't go through the kitchen.

And I couldn't go down the steps past a room full of crosses.

I looked up. There was a vent above me. Maybe I could pass through there and reach my room. I tried to become fog.

Nothing happened.

Did my powers work only at night? What about my strength? I held the banister and lifted my weight with one hand. The cross and the garlic had weakened me, but my strength was still a bit greater than normal. Could I float?

I tried. Wasn't gonna happen.

So, I was stronger, and my senses were a lot more powerful. But those were just human abilities that had gotten better—nothing new. The fog and the rising were different. I guess they were powers of the night.

As I stood there wondering what to do, Mom opened the door and looked down. “Oh, there you are. I'm making extra. How about a nice, hot slice of garlic bread?”

 

Fourteen

THE VAMPIRE KILLER

“No thanks,” I said, backing farther down the stairs. The scent was following me, sickening me, ripping at me like sunbaked, rotting garbage. “I'm going to hang out with Dad for a bit.” I moved to the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay, but let me know if you change your mind. There's plenty.” She smiled as she closed the door.

I was trapped. I thought about my choices. There was no other exit from the basement. Even if there was, I couldn't get past the crosses. So I couldn't go down. I wondered if I could force myself through the wall of garlic odor and run through the kitchen. But what if Mom stopped me? How would I explain why I was gagging and rolling on the floor?

What if I held my breath? No, she could still stop me. That's when I got the idea. But I needed Rory. If he came by, I could get out. But there was no need to wait for him. I remembered Browser. I had made him do what I wanted. Were people any different from animals? I didn't think I could control a stranger, but Rory and I were family. I started to reach out for my brother.

I couldn't. I had the power, but I couldn't use it. It wasn't right. To make someone from my family do something without him knowing I was the cause—well, it was just wrong. I'd have to wait for him and hope he showed up soon.

Down in the shop, I could hear Dad happily working away. The clang of steel hitting silver rose above the music. At least it wasn't Friday. On Friday, Dad usually listened to opera. That, combined with the crosses and the garlic, would have been too much for anyone, even a vampire, to deal with. Over my head, I could hear Mom filling the kitchen with loaves of garlic bread. The PTA folks would pig out tonight.

Finally, the door opened.

“Whatcha doing?” Rory asked when he saw me at the bottom of the steps.

“Waiting for you,” I told him. “Can you do something for me?”

“Sure.”

I told him what I needed.

“Okay.” He ran off. It was that easy. He came back right away with the gas mask from his room.

I put it on, then lifted it from my face for a moment so I could speak clearly. “Now, I'm the Martian-elephant-monster and I'm going to get you.”

He squealed in delight and ran up the stairs. I followed, slowly and weakly, making roaring elephant-monster sounds, walking with my arms out in the traditional monster lurch. Rory dashed ahead of me through the kitchen. I went after him.

Mom looked over, shook her head and laughed, then said, “Oh, you boys.”

Angelina shook her head and said, “They're such children.”

I chased Rory around long enough to make him happy and exhausted. Then I went up to my room. My parents were going to the PTA supper, and they'd told us we'd be on our own for dinner. Mom had left a casserole in the oven.

I told Angelina I was eating at Norman's, then slipped out as soon as it got dark. I headed to town. There were some trees near the courthouse. I made sure no one was looking, then rose up and found a comfortable branch.

As I was getting settled, Norman came up the street and went over to the courthouse steps. A few minutes later, a man approached him. He was a little guy, not much taller than Norman, wearing a long, dark coat and carrying a small suitcase. I listened.

“Teridakian,” the man said, holding his hand out to Norman. “From Bratislava.”

“Uh, Weed from Lewington.” Norman shook his hand.

“I, too, use the computer. Modern times call for modern methods. I saw your question. I knew. He is here.” The man spoke with a thick accent.

“Who is here?”

“My old enemy. The undead one. Vladivost. That is his true name. He has used many others. I am pledged to destroy him. He took my Sonya.” The man paused and sobbed. He reached inside his pocket and pulled something out. “Here is her picture.”

I wondered who Sonya was. His wife? His daughter? Whoever she might have been, it was terrible that he had lost her, and especially terrible that he had lost her to a vampire. I didn't want to become the sort of monster who destroyed families.

Norman looked down at the picture, then back up at the man. He didn't say anything.

“She was beautiful. Yes?” Teridakian said sadly.

Norman finally spoke. He pointed at the picture. “That's a basset hound.”

Teridakian nodded. “She was a good dog, a fine companion. She was my life.”

Norman backed up a step. “Listen, it was very nice meeting you, but it's getting late.”

Teridakian lurched forward and grabbed Norman by the sleeve. “No! Listen! He is here. He must be stopped. Look, I have everything.” He fumbled open the suitcase with his other hand and held up sharpened wooden stakes. “Everything,” he said again.

The sight of the stakes sent a strange feeling through my chest. It was like the way I felt when I saw the doctor holding a long, sharp needle.

Norman pulled his arm free and backed up another step. Teridakian looked away from him. “So many years,” he said. “I've come so close. Many times, he was within my grasp. I know he is here. This time, I will not fail.”

Then he looked right at me. He couldn't possibly have seen me in the tree, but he looked right in my direction.

Norman sprinted away.

“Wait!” Teridakian screamed. “You can help. Wait!”

But Norman was out of there.

Teridakian stuffed the stake back into the case, looked around, then said quietly, “I will find you.”

I watched him leave. Then I dropped down from the tree. This man was one more complication in a situation that was already pretty intense.

I headed toward the warehouse. It was time to talk with the vampire again.

 

Fifteen

A PLEASANT CHAT

It was the same as before. He was in the chair, reading a book and sipping from a glass. Even at a distance, I had no trouble making out the title. It was
A Study in Scarlet
by Arthur Conan Doyle.

He looked over the top of the book and said, “Oh, you again.”

“Me again. Can I at least get some answers from you?”