The Eternal Tomb (10 page)

Only a single evening of his old life remained. Compared to ending the world, it sounded like no problem.

Oliver entered the kitchen for breakfast as usual on Thursday evening.

“How are you feeling?” Phlox asked. “Does your arm still hurt?”

“It's fine,” Oliver replied. He sucked down his frozen mocha shake and ate his piece of serpent loaf as quickly as he could. “Gotta go,” he said, sliding off his chair.

“Be home right after school,” said Sebastian, emerging from the living room. “You'll need a good day's sleep for the Ball.”

“Sure.” Oliver turned to leave. He moved to the hall, slipped on his sweatshirt, slung his backpack over his shoulder—and, for just a moment, paused. This was it, after all. Good-bye. Oliver had no idea if he'd ever see them again, or what would happen to Phlox and Sebastian when he was discovered missing.
They can take care of themselves
, Oliver assured himself. That was true.

But they loved me. And they had been good parents, in their way.
That was maybe also true, and yet, hadn't they chosen the prophecy instead of him, over and over, even after it had taken Bane?
But they'll miss me, won't they? Will they even be my parents anymore?
Oliver felt a moment of tightness. He hadn't expected these feelings.

“Something wrong?” Phlox sounded concerned.

Oliver only turned halfway around, so his face wouldn't betray his nerves.
You have to sound like nothing's changed
, he reminded himself. “Everything's fine,” he said carefully, trying to imitate his sulk from earlier in the week.

“All right,” said Phlox. “Have a good night.”

“Yup.” Oliver forced himself to move, and started down the stairs.
They were never even my real parents
, he assured himself
. And they never really understood me.
He hurried out the door, and as he left 16 Twilight Lane, he didn't look back.

Oliver got to class early again. Attendance was taken at the start of the night. If Oliver wasn't in homeroom, Mr. VanWick would note it, and the office would call home. After that, though, none of the teachers would be reporting absences. There was any number of reasons why a kid might not be in class.

He sat quietly before class began, listening as his classmates discussed the latest developments in finding dates for the Darkling Ball. Seth had apparently been turned down by Carly, Suzyn had rejected Maggots in favor of going with Amelya, and Berthold was bringing his mom.

And he listened intently to Mr. VanWick's history lecture, as he normally would. Today they were covering a few of the classic Waning Sun traditions, such as the Gathering ritual performed by the vampires of the Arctic Underworld city of Issilya, beneath the polar ice, and the Thirty Days Thirty Bites ceremony that was regaining popularity in Bolivia.

Oliver went with his class to Music, and for the next half hour, he sat with his cello as they played a piece called “Sunset Finale.” Drawing his bow slowly over the vibrating strings, Oliver momentarily forgot about the night's plans and just enjoyed the sounds. It was a pretty piece. So sad and complex. Would he still find it so once he had a soul? Or would he seek out happier, more trite human music? Would he still be good at the cello?
Of course I will
, he thought, frustrated by his own questioning. It wasn't like he was going to forget thirty-two years of cello training just because he had a soul. If anything, he'd probably feel the music more deeply.

Class was dismissed for Multi-World Math. Oliver loitered outside the music room door, until the rest of the kids were in their rooms. He turned to an old photo on the wall, of the human school chorus from long ago. He looked at the young teacher standing beside her class, her lovely face bright with a smile. When he'd found this photo almost a year ago, he hadn't known she was his human mother, Lindsey.
I'm on my way
, he thought nervously.

Oliver checked up and down the hall, then took off his heavy backpack and dumped all of his books and schoolwork into a nearby trash can. He spectralized and slipped out the back door, into the night.

Dean, Emalie, and Aunt Kathleen were waiting in the living room at Dean's house. Tammy, Mitch, and Cole were sitting together, talking quietly. The room hushed when Oliver entered.

“Hey, Oliver,” said Dean.

“Hey.” Oliver looked at the adult faces and saw their worried expressions. He could sense the complicated feelings in the room. The scents of fear and concern, the touch of anger.

We told them about the prophecy
, Emalie thought to him.

How'd it go?
Oliver thought back. He saw Mitch picking at his fingernails. Only Tammy had made eye contact with him so far.

“Everyone understands,” Aunt Kathleen said quietly. “Obviously, no one is comfortable with this.”

A small, frustrated sigh escaped from Cole. His eyes flashed over Oliver coldly.
Yes you are
, Cole had said when Oliver tried to say he wasn't dangerous. Indeed, he was.

“But,” Aunt Kathleen added, “no one's comfortable with the world ending, either.”

“I'm sorry,” said Oliver, looking around the room.

No one replied.

After an endless moment, Tammy finally spoke. “So go, then. The sooner you leave, the better chance you'll have.” She shot to her feet and hurried into the kitchen. “I made you some food to take.”

“Thank you,” said Emalie.

“Okay,” said Dean. “Let's do it.”

Cole stood and hugged Emalie tightly. “I wish I could help, somehow,” he said, his chin resting atop her head. “I love you. Be safe.”

“I will,” Emalie replied.

Oliver wanted to say something more to them, but could tell that it was best to keep quiet. He was the reason for all of this danger and worry. He'd just make it worse if he opened his mouth.

“I'll do everything in my power to protect them,” said Aunt Kathleen, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. “And I've alerted the Orani network. We'll have friends along the way.”

“Here are your snacks,” said Tammy, hurrying back. She wrapped Dean in a hug. “Be careful, honey.”

“Okay, Mom,” said Dean.

Oliver stood alone, watching the good-byes, and felt a fresh wave of guilt. For this worry he was causing, and also… He thought of Phlox busying at home, thinking he was safe at school. Her only son, the other so recently slain…

“Oliver?” Emalie was halfway through the kitchen. “You okay?”

No,
Oliver thought. But when had he ever been? And if he didn't try this, tonight, when would he ever be?

“Yeah,” he said, and caught up.

They left out Dean's back door, weaving through yards, keeping beneath trees to avoid the eyes of Occupied animals, then caught a human taxi to the bus station.

“Northwest Trailways forty-three now departing for Yakima, Tri-Cities.”

Oliver, Emalie, and Dean dropped their bags on a long bench by a newsstand. Tall windows behind them looked out at the silver grilles of arriving and departing buses.

“Who wants food?” asked Aunt Kathleen. “They probably don't have blood,” she said with a forced smile, “but I saw candy and hot dogs and the like. We can save your mom's snacks for the ride.”

“A hot dog could work,” said Dean, “that's practically zombie food anyway.”

“Fries,” said Emalie, then turned to Dean, “and
yuck
.”

“I'll stay here with our stuff,” said Oliver.

“You want anything?” Emalie asked.

“Belgian chocolate would be good.”

“Oliver, it's a bus terminal.”

“Coke, then.” He pulled a tiny plastic jar from his bag. “I brought some cayenne for it.”

Emalie wrinkled her nose at him. “Weirdo.”

The three headed off.

“N
ORTHWEST
T
RAILWAYS ONE-NINETY-TWO NOW ARRIVING FROM
V
ANCOUVER
.”

Oliver sat sideways on the bench, watching the buses pull in and out, their brakes whining, their wipers removing a final spray of rain. One pulled up now and as the lights brightened inside, the marquee on top scrolled from Seattle to Portland to San Francisco.

This was their bus. Oliver felt a nervous rush. He glanced quickly around the station again, eyes alert for vampires, but there was nothing, same as it had been all night. Oliver checked the clock. It was nearing lunchtime at school. Half-Light might still have no idea that he was gone.
Are we really going to make it?
he wondered, and the thought filled him with fear, but the feeling was electric: Finally, he feared something unknown instead of something chosen for him. This bus ride was just the beginning of a whole new future.

He watched groggy people getting off the bus and making their way inside. They squinted at the bright lights, most heading toward the bathrooms. Some were met by loved ones. A dad with a daughter, meeting a wet-eyed woman.A girlfriend and boyfriend embracing passionately.

Outside, the driver was checking the cargo compartments for baggage left behind.

“N
ORTHWEST
T
RAILWAYS EIGHT-TWENTY-TWO TO
S
AN
F
RANCISCO WILL BEGIN BOARDING IN FIVE MINUTES
.”

Oliver's head whipped around, scanning the station, his nose working intently. But there was still nothing. Not a trace of a vampire. There was a zombie woman, leaning against the wall by the bathrooms, but that wasn't surprising. Since zombies weren't allowed onto charions unless traveling with their masters, they sometimes used human buses. Actually, many zombies preferred just to pack themselves into a sturdy box and have themselves shipped places, as the care and cleaning that it took to make themselves presentable for being in close contact with humans on a bus was usually much more trouble than it was worth.

“Here's your Coke,” Emalie said as she and Dean returned. “Aunt Kathleen is grabbing a magazine.” They sat beside him.

“Thanks.” Oliver added the cayenne to the can. His fingers were shaking slightly.

“You all right?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” said Oliver, but his insides were tied in knots.

Emalie rubbed his shoulder. “We just need to get on the bus. One thing at a time.”

“Right,” Oliver agreed, but something else was bothering him. He looked warily around the station again. There was still only the single zombie by the bathroom. Otherwise, nothing.
We just need to get moving
, he thought to himself.
Then, I'll be fine.
He was just nervous about the unknown. To change his destiny, to find his parents, to start a new future, it was big stuff. Of course he was anxious about it.

But was that really what he was feeling? Oliver craned his neck, scanning the station again. He almost bumped a traveler who was sitting down beside him.

“Oliver, relax,” said Emalie.

But he couldn't. “Something's not right,” he said.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I don't know,” Oliver muttered. “It's just—”

“Too easy?” said a voice from beside him.

Oliver spun, recognizing the voice instantly.

“Hello, Oliver,” said Braiden Lang, sitting next to him, legs crossed casually. He had wild curly brown hair, and wore a black sweatshirt and military green jacket over his short, round frame.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver snapped.

“I'm here for the going away party,” said Braiden, his pudgy, acne-scarred face stretching into a cold smile. “I would have appreciated a thank-you card, by the way. I mean, I am the one who told you your parents were alive in the first place.”

“After you tried to kill us,” muttered Emalie.

“Well, sure, but that was a long time ago.” Braiden smiled, then gazed around the terminal. “So, funny that no one else is here to see you off. That's what's bothering you, isn't it?”

“You—” Oliver began.

But Braiden was right. That was exactly what was troubling him.

“Yes,” Braiden continued, “Oliver's off to undo his prophecy and save the world, and Half-Light didn't even send flowers. I wonder why that is.”

“Because we fooled them,” said Dean.

“Hah,” Braiden chuckled derisively. “Right. Except here I am. So if
we
knew what you were up to, and we're just a little old bunch of humans, how is it that Half-Light doesn't?”

“What are you saying?” Emalie asked angrily.

“What I'm saying,” Braiden continued, “is that your boyfriend here is the most important vampire in the universe right now. Centuries of study and research have been put into Oliver's development, the ultimate instrument to fulfill Half-Light's sole purpose of opening the Gate. Everything they've worked for rests on tomorrow night, on the Anointment, on you, Oliver. Am I right?”

Oliver had to agree. “Yeah.”

“So then, with everything you know about Half-Light, the same Half-Light that planned to slay your brother for disobeying their wishes … Do you really think they'd have taken their eye off you for even a second? Do you really think they'd just let you run away right before the biggest night in their history?”

Oliver looked desperately to Emalie and Dean. Their brows were furrowed in thought, and their heads had fallen just enough to show that they were thinking the same thing he was. “No,” he said.

“N
ORTHWEST
T
RAILWAYS EIGHT-TWENTY-TWO TO
S
AN
F
RANCISCO IS NOW BOARDING
.”

“But,” said Dean, “we're just about to get on the bus. So where are they?”

Braiden looked around. “My point exactly.”

Oliver spoke quietly. “They're letting us go.” As the words left him, he felt like a balloon deflating.

“Letting us?” Dean exclaimed. “Why?”

Braiden held out a small piece of paper.