The Fangs of Bloodhaven (19 page)

He finally broke the silence. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” his father asked, looking at him.

“How did you know my bite would kill it?” Everett asked in a voice just above a whisper. He wanted the answer and feared it at the same time.

Mr. Masterson let out a slow breath. He glanced back at the house as if afraid of being overheard. He finally admitted, “I read your vampire book.”

Everett stared at him. “You read it?”

His father nodded. “All of it. I learned a lot.”

Everett remembered what he had read about the virus carried in a vampires’ mouth being the cause of zombie creation.

“So it was a hypothesis?” he asked, amazed at how much his father had put on the line.

“It was the only thing I could think of,” Mr. Masterson answered.

Everett took the time to really look at his father. His shoulders were hunched and he kept looked down the street as if the small pile on the next lawn bothered him as much as Everett. His blue eyes were tired and there were lines beside his eyes and around his mouth Everett hadn’t seen before. He looked as though he had aged ten years from the time Everett left to walk the Bowers to the house until that moment.

Everett felt the need to protect his father from what had happened. He pushed back the torrential thoughts he needed to come to terms with and forced a smile.

“At least you had an idea. I was coming up blank,” he said lightly.

Mr. Masterson looked at him. An answering smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, chasing away the age lines. “It was a shot in the dark, but one that worked.” He nodded toward the cup. “Feel better?”

Everett nodded. “Much better.”

“How’s the shoulder?” his father asked.

Everett checked the wound through his torn shirt. “It’s already healing.”

“Good.” Mr. Masterson looked at the house. “Your mother is attempting to feed everyone. The kids are a bit high-strung, as you can understand. I think we’ll have the Bowers spend the night here in the spare bedroom so we don’t have to worry about them getting home safely.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Everett said with relief. The thought of heading back through the streets made him nervous. He didn’t like that feeling. The streets at night were his safety, his escape. He couldn’t live in fear; he had to go to the Monster Asylum, especially now. The thought that Dr. Transton might know something about the dark creatures kept nagging at his mind.

“I think I need to sleep,” he told his dad.

Mr. Masterson nodded. “I know it’ll help you heal more quickly. I’ll help you to bed, then come back and keep an eye out, just in case.”

“Do you think the Bowers will mind?” Everett asked, worried about ditching them after all that had happened.

“They’re happy to be safe. Everyone will understand that you need to sleep.” Mr. Masterson put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Everett, you saved all of our lives.” He shook his head as if searching for words. “I really don’t know what to say. I felt so helpless seeing my son trapped beneath that animal. It was like all the worst things I could possibly imagine happening at the same time. My family in danger, my son hurt.” His voice broke and he looked at the house behind them. “What would we have done if you weren’t so strong?”

“You would’ve come up with something,” Everett answered, his tone firm.

Mr. Masterson’s lips pursed into a slight frown. “I’m not so sure.” He gave his son a smile. “Thanks to you, we didn’t have to find out.” He stood up and held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Chapter Nineteen

Everett was grateful his father warded off his mother’s insistence to check on him before he went to sleep. He lay for several minutes listening to the small talk above. After the initial fear had worn away, it sounded like everyone eventually warmed up to each other. He even heard Patricia laugh at something Finch said.

He took off his shirt and checked the claw marks. Thanks to the high quality of blood, the wound had almost healed completely. He rolled his shoulder and was glad to see that the range of motion hadn’t been affected. He tossed the tattered shirt in his laundry basket knowing that his mother would probably turn it into rags instead of attempting to fix the rips. It was a hand-me-down from Donavan anyway and his older brother was hard on his clothing; Everett doubted it would have made it to Finch and Gabe.

Slipping into a blue tee-shirt with a sailor’s star on the front, Everett climbed up the stairs as silently as he could. A peak outside showed his father sitting on the porch swing. A pang of sorrow went through Everett. His dad’s home had been threatened along with the safety of his family.

A slight, familiar skritch-skritch sounded. Everett couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his dad whittle. Mr. Masterson kept a small supply of aspen branches behind the greenhouse from when they had trimmed one of their trees a few years back. He used to carve things like owls and wolves. Lately, he had gotten too busy to take time for his hobby. Everett wondered if his dad was trying to calm himself or if the knife was reassuring in the face of the darkness that clogged the streets.

By the lessening sounds of utensils on his mother’s favorite glass plates, dinner was drawing to a close. Everett wouldn’t have much time. He slipped through the hallway and ducked out the back door. Taking the long way around so his father wouldn’t see him, Everett reached the tunnels.

He hesitated at the mouth. Sounds hinted from inside. Everett wondered if his mind was just replaying memories from earlier, or if he truly heard metal on glass. Either way, the thought of stepping into the darkness proved too much.

Everett ran through the streets. Taking the long way around buildings and walled neighborhoods took far longer than the tunnels, and he got disoriented twice and had to use the lay of the skyscrapers to reorient himself. He finally reached Adrielle’s apartment and cut through to the alley.

“Vampires are the enemy,” he said.

“Yes, but vampires’ mothers make amazing banana bread,” Xander answered from the other side. The ogren chuckled as he pulled open the door.

“Thank you,” Everett told him. “Mom said she might make pumpkin cookies soon. I’ll snag you a batch.”

Xander’s mouth split into a wide smile.

Everett hurried down the hallway. The thought of talking to Dr. Transton about the creature and hopefully finding out more information about it made him hurry even faster. If there were more of them, perhaps he could find a way to protect the city. From what he had seen, the creatures would be able to deal a lot of damage quickly. If there were more of them, the Pentagrin could be in trouble.

Everett pushed the button for the sixth floor. To his surprise, the button for floor thirty-one lit up instead. Everett pushed the sixth floor’s button again, sure it was a mistake. The elevator continued to go up. The floors lit as they passed by. Floor twenty-three, twenty-four, and then twenty-five. Everett’s heart began to race. He remembered the whirlwind of hatred he had encountered the last time he was on the thirty-first floor. He hadn’t had a chance to read the poltergeist book. He didn’t know what to do.

The button lit and the elevator stopped. Everett hung back when the doors slid open to reveal the empty, dark room. He knew better than to assume nothing was inside.

The elevator beeped as if telling him to exit.

“No way,” Everett said aloud. “I’m staying right here.” He reached across the small box and pushed the button for floor six. Nothing happened.

“Go away,” the voice he remembered said.

“I’m trying,” Everett replied. He pushed the door close button. It had never worked for him before; apparently it wasn’t about to change old habits.

The elevator beeped again.

“I’m not going in there,” Everett muttered.

He wondered if he imagined that when the beeping repeated, it sounded more insistent. When he refused to move, the doors behind him slid open. He spun with the reminder that there were two sides to each floor.

The room he faced was dark. Glowing red eyes appeared. His heartbeat sped up. He squinted, but couldn’t make out anything else. If he judged whatever monster was there by the size of the eyes, it was bigger than the dark creature he had fought. The eyes drew closer. A soft hissing sound reached his ears along with a blast of hot air. Everett stumbled backwards.

The monster got closer, but Everett couldn’t make out anything of its body in the darkness. Not knowing made it even more terrifying. The hiss sounded again, louder this time and with undeniable vehemence. He pictured teeth below the glowing red eyes and a horrifying body to match the stench that came from its breath. It rushed toward him.

Everett fell backwards, stumbling into the other room. The further elevator door shut, blocking the red eyed monster from escaping. A beep sounded, then the other doors slid shut.

“No!” Everett protested. He scrambled to his knees and tried to put a hand inside to stop the doors, but they closed with a resounding thud he didn’t remember hearing before.

“Leave me alone,” the voice in the room said.

“I’m sorry,” Everett replied. “I didn’t mean to come here. The elevator stopped and I—”

“Go away and leave me alone!” the voice screamed.

A sound pierced the room with such force Everett ducked his head to the floor and clutched his hands over his ears. It rose in volume, swirling and stabbing, a noise so horrifying it made the metal on glass sound from the dark creature feel like a baby’s laugh. It took every horrific sound and combined it into one, nails down a chalkboard, tinfoil and teeth, glass shattering, porcelain smashing into pieces, a girl screaming, metal twisting, and the dark creature’s claws on asphalt.

Everett’s muscles were so tense they shook. He held his ears, but it didn’t help. The sound penetrated everything, grinding against his senses, blocking out all thinking or ability to act.

One small thought worked its way free. After the dark creature’s attack, running through the streets, placing himself between it and his family, battling for his life, and then being nearly eaten by the creature on the other side of the elevator doors, Everett felt completely frayed like a cord unraveling.

He balled up all of his anger and the hopelessness he felt at being scared and shouted, “I’m so tired of being afraid!”

The sound slowed, then stopped entirely. The silence that followed pressed against him with almost the same force as the noise as if it had to be felt to erase all he had heard.

Everett sat up slowly. When nothing happened, he turned so that his back was against the elevator doors. He reached up a hand and hit the button. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t light up.

“There’s something wrong with that elevator,” he said quietly. The sound of his voice felt too loud in the silence. He took a calming breath and let it out slowly. “I suddenly feel like everything in this world is out to kill me.”

Silence followed, then, “What else is trying to kill you?”

The words were soft and hesitant, the voice a bit coarse as if the speaker hadn’t said anything in a very long time. Everett recognized the tones of the girl who had cried on the other side of the elevator door. He didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that he couldn’t take the assault of noise again.

“Dark creatures,” he said, keeping his voice low and staring at the floor past his knees while he spoke. “Or, a dark creature, to be exact. There was only one.” He paused, then continued, “But I’m afraid there might be others.”

The voice didn’t respond. He felt as though it, she, was listening, but he couldn’t be sure. He spoke because if he didn’t, he felt like he would go crazy in the expectant silence.

“It was going to kill them, the Bowers. I knew it. I felt it. If I didn’t stand in its way, it was going to tear them apart in front of me and my family would be next.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. His hair was wet from sweat. He doubted being terrified nearly out of his mind was good for a vampire. Perhaps he should start his own book on how not to die when one is a bloodthirsty monster. The first chapter would be on avoiding being frightened out of one’s wits. That couldn’t be good for anyone.

“I stopped running,” he said, remembering. He closed his eyes. “The creature was so much bigger than I thought it would be. It was black, blacker than black as if night itself would be terrified of such a beast.” He squeezed his closed eyes. “It ran me over. I knew it was going to kill me, and if it did, my family would be next. I could hear them on the porch. Isabella was so afraid.” He regretted not checking on his littlest sister before he had left the house for the Asylum. He should have made sure she wasn’t scared anymore.

“Did it get them?”

Everett’s eyes opened. He looked around the room, remembering where he was. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I think I might be in shock.” He took a shuddering breath. “No, it didn’t get them.”

He felt as much as heard whoever was in the room sigh.

“I pinned it, then it was on top of me. I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my heart pounding. It hurt, telling me I was almost out of blood. I had lost too much when the creature grabbed my shoulder.” The wound gave an answering throb and he put a hand to it. “I didn’t know how to stop the beast. I was dying; I felt it.” His voice caught. “And then it would kill them.”

Through the silence that followed, the girl asked, “What happened?”

Everett lowered his hand. “Dad told me to bite it.”

“You bit the creature?” she asked incredulously, her voice a bit louder as if she had drawn closer.

He couldn’t see her in the dim room. “Yeah,” he admitted. His lips pulled back as much in distaste from the memory as to show her what he was. “I’m a vampire, so I guess I’m equipped for it.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

Everett gave a humorless smile. “I saved my family. I should be happy.”

“But you’re not,” she guessed, her voice lifting slightly to turn it into more of a question than a statement.

Everett rested his chin on his knees that were pulled up. He studied the plain gray floor past his feet. “I should be,” he said. He shook his head. “But I killed it with a bite. It was so huge and horrible, yet it disintegrated after I sunk my fangs into it.” His voice lowered and he closed his eyes. “What kind of monster does it make me that I can kill something like that with one bite?”

His question lingered in the air, haunting him more than the poltergeist, eating at his heart, his conscience. If he was such a dangerous thing, maybe he shouldn’t be around humanity at all. Maybe a vampire was worse than a dark creature. His bite had proven as much.

“Who am I fooling?” he asked quietly, more to himself than to her. “I’m the one they should fear.”

“Fear isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

The proximity of the voice startled him. His head jerked up and he stared.

She stood in front of him, there but not there. He could see the back wall through her and her outline was faint, similar to when Monique’s former image had appeared in the moonlight as she danced.

The ghost seemed close to his age, yet her clothing was strange. She wore a pink, yellow, and white striped dress with straps instead of sleeves. There were sandals on her feet and her long dark hair was pulled back with a yellow ribbon that matched the dress. His mother would have loved such colors, but the Kingship had limited the supply of dyes and dyed clothing available throughout the Pentagrin because the plants and berries usually used were difficult to come by. Mrs. Masterson had her own hidden assortment of blue and red dyes she had made with her husband’s plants, but she didn’t dare use them for fear of bringing punishment down on the family.

What unsettled Everett was the way she looked at him. The ghost’s gaze was frank and unsettling, her gray eyes staring at him as if she could see through him. Everett felt exposed as though she saw his soul instead of his skin.

He rose with a hand against the elevator doors to steady him.

“Hi,” he said uneasily.

She gave a small smile that appeared uncomfortable on her face and vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I guess you’re not used to meeting ghosts every day.”

“I, uh, not really,” Everett said. He tried to force his thoughts to center, but after everything he had gone through, his brain refused to be the least bit helpful.

The elevator door opened without warning. Everett stumbled backwards.

“Everett?” Dr. Transton’s voice came over a speaker just above the numbers.

Everett had no idea how to answer back. He gave the ghost an apologetic look as he quickly searched the board for some sort of button to push to reply. Seeing none, he finally said, “Yes, Doctor?”

“Everett, report to the security floor immediately.”