The moment Bea’s power started to swell, I felt the wards drop. They must be keyed to magic use. Damn, if we’d known that, we could’ve skipped all the stumbling and swearing.
Bea blinked rapidly. “I guess that worked. Except I didn’t really do anything.”
“I’ll explain it later,” I said. Cautiously, I took a single step forward. I didn’t know if the wards had been completely disarmed, or whether they’d snap back on once I tried to approach. My foot hit the ground with no zip, no sensation of barbed wire or jungle vines—nothing but normal.
Or at least what passed for normal around here.
Quickly, I caught up to Bea, who was mounting the stairs. The carriage house apartment was completely separate from the stable/garage. The steps had an old-fashioned velvet runner down the middle that cushioned our footfalls, but they were narrow. There wasn’t room for me next to Bea on the landing. She used the key at the second door at the top.
“Hello?” she ventured, peeping around the door.
When no one answered, she gave me a shrug and walked through. I followed. The ceilings were low and angled like in an attic. The beams had intentionally been left exposed, and an ornate, tulip-shaped light fixture hung from the center. Bea didn’t need to switch on the main light, however, because a table lamp had been left on. A folding chair, a ratty recliner, and a fancy high-back chair sat in a circle near the table and lamp. Though someone clearly had been using the place, it smelled of mothballs and old books.
Bea checked the water closet. I couldn’t really call the side room a bathroom since the plumbing was pretty decrepit, having last been updated in the early 1900s. “No one here,” she said.
All this security for nothing besides an impromptu meeting room? I didn’t buy it.
“There’s one more place to check,” I said. Once, when I was little and decided to run away from home, I spent an entire day and most of the night in the carriage house. I would have lasted until morning too, except for the thunderstorm that scared me back into Mom’s waiting arms. But while I was checking out what I hoped to be my new permanent home, I’d found a trapdoor.
“Help me move the rug out of the way,” I said. Soon we had the floor exposed. The handle was little more than a notch in the floorboards, but I found it. When I reached to open the door, an electric current shocked through me. I fell back on my heels, shaking the prickles out of my hand. “Ow! Son of a gun!”
“I’ll do it,” Bea offered. But before touching the trap, she took in a deep breath. Her power bubbled just under the surface. With a defiant flip of her hair, she slid her hand into the groove and gave the trap a heave. The door creaked open with a rain of dust.
I knelt beside her. Inside the hidden compartment was a book—an old hand-stitched vellum book. Bea looked at me for an explanation. “Is this the talisman?”
“It’s supposed to be a snake-headed Nile goddess figurine,” I said. “So I don’t think so. But maybe this book contains the spells for binding and creating vampires.”
Bea picked it up and cradled it gently in her lap. The cover was a moldy brown. If there had been anything written on it, the ink had long ago faded. Slowly, she turned the yellowed and crumbly pages. The script inside reminded me of calligraphy, like the kind you might imagine medieval monks used to copy the Bible or the Book of Kells or something. Except this was completely unreadable. I wasn’t even sure if it was in English.
“Latin,” Bea said, pointing to a word. “Here it says something about demons. You were right. This is the spell book.”
“We have to destroy it,” I said.
Before I could grab for it, Bea slammed the book shut and hugged it protectively against her chest. “Are you insane? This is witch history!”
“Yeah, but if they don’t have the spell, they can’t use it against us.”
“Us? They?
I’m
a witch, Ana.
I’m
‘them,’ and so are you,” Bea said, still clutching the grimoire. She stood up, backing away from me with an expression of pure horror. “Besides, there’s clearly more than one spell here. This could be one of the only spell books to survive the Burning Times. I won’t let you do it.”
Though most of the people accused had been innocent, True Witches had died during the Inquisition too. Those who survived had destroyed all evidence of their practice. In fact, we still lived under the shadow of the Burning Times, which was why we were supposed to keep our witchcraft secret from the general populace, the mundanes.
Almost like another electric blast, Bea’s words shocked me. I had to stop taking sides. I wasn’t a vampire. I wasn’t a witch. I was both.
And I needed to start acting like it.
Bea had been right about so many things. Maybe it was time for me to trust her,
really
trust her. “Okay,” I said, not getting up from where I knelt on the floor. “But you take the book, and you hide it. Don’t tell anyone, not even me, where it is. Ever.”
Chapter Thirteen
F
or once, Bea didn’t protest. She seemed to understand the gravity of the situation because she bundled the book up in an old sweater we found in the apartment and scurried down the stairs without a single word.
I’d just finished putting the rug back in place when I heard a bloodcurdling scream.
Adrenaline brought me to the backyard in no time flat. Bea held the book squeezed tightly against her chest. A figure loomed over her. I bared my teeth and pushed myself between them.
“Ana, thank Goddess.” It was Elias. “I’ve been looking for you.” I glanced over my shoulder at the terrified Bea. Her eyes glistened with surprise when she noticed my transformation. I waved off her reaction, and instead jerked my head in the direction of her car. She looked confused for a second, but then seemed to catch my drift. I didn’t want Elias to know what she had either. It was best if no vampire did.
Not even me.
Bea gave Elias a brief nod as she slunk past him. “Thanks for the fright of my life, asshole,” she said.
“My pleasure, lady.” He bowed. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to wonder why Bea was sneaking around our backyard clutching an orange sweater. As soon as she was around the corner of the house, he said, “Your mother is in danger, I’m afraid.”
“What? How?”
“I wanted to confirm before coming, but it was surprisingly difficult to find a colleague willing to speak with an outcast about such matters.”
“Would you cut to the chase and tell me what’s going on?”
“Yes, of course. When I awoke, I felt the hunger building. A hunt has been called.”
“Vampires are hunting Mom? Are you sure?” He nodded. My stomach dropped. I shifted my feet, not knowing which way to run, feeling overwhelming panic. “But ... it makes no sense!”
“I think your father is becoming increasingly desperate. Your public denouncement of him as a ‘do-nothing’ ruler put his back against the wall. My source tells me the people have been demanding action,
any
action,” Elias said. “Perhaps the prince believes that if they attack so openly, the witches will be forced to show their hand as well, and we—er, they—can seize the talisman when it surfaces.”
“Oh my God, Mom!”
“Yes, I thought at the very least we should warn her,” Elias said.
I was near hysteria. “But I don’t know where she is!”
His hand on my shoulder calmed me. “I can find her.” Gulping back tears, I asked, “How?”
“I was only exiled yesterday. I can still catch her essence, and I’ll feel the feeding frenzy building.” He glanced around like a wolf, scenting the wind. “We should hurry.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Luckily, Elias had his car, since Bea had already driven off in hers. We didn’t talk much, since I didn’t know how much concentration Elias needed in order to find Mom. I wouldn’t have had anything helpful to say anyway. Wordless dread roiled in my gut. I chewed my fingernails.
Elias drove down University Avenue, over Highway 280, and past the blinking red lights of the KSTP radio tower. Soon the buildings looked less industrial and took on a more collegiate flare. The dead, empty streets of St. Paul fell behind us, replaced by vibrant Minneapolis. The closer we got to the university, the more restaurants advertised student discounts and late hours. By the time we turned onto Washington Avenue, students traveled the streets in packs, loitered outside of bars or bookstores or coffeehouses, laughing, and generally being loud.
It felt very alien and only managed to agitate me further.
“Why?” I asked again. “Why would Dad want to kill Mom?”
“As I said, I think he’s hoping to flush the talisman out into the open, but I also suspect that after banishing me, he felt the need to unite the kingdom in a common purpose. I had my supporters, but a hunt would wipe all thought of mutiny from their minds.” He snorted, “Or any thought, really, since we become more like dumb animals when we’re caught in the frenzy of a feed.”
That wasn’t what I’d meant by my question, but Elias got that faraway look that made me think he was doing his tracking thing. What I’d wanted to know was, how could Dad do it? How could he basically take out a hit on Mom? I knew it was foolish to think that there was any love left between them, but to send hungry vampires after your former—no, if I remembered correctly, they’d never officially divorced—current wife? It seemed inhumane. It was hard to believe Dad had been driven to this kind of crazy desperation, but it seemed he had. And maybe even my little rebellion in front of his court had pushed him to it.
I felt so guilty. “Can you stop a hunt once it’s started?”
“I couldn’t, but you could,” Elias said. His foot came off the gas as we approached Folwell Hall. “I need to get out for a moment,” he explained, pulling the car into a metered space.
Cracking open his door, he partially stood, as if inspecting the windshield. I wondered if I should get out, but before I’d begun to unbuckle, he was back in. We pulled back out into the street. “She’s near. A little closer, and we’ll walk.”
We pulled into an underground ramp near the Bell Museum. “I hope she’s not in there,” I said, pointing at the brass elk statue that guarded the museum’s front entrance. Even though I’d been to the Bell once in sixth grade, the memories haunted me. I shivered. “All those taxidermy dioramas will be especially spooky at night.”
“She’s not there. From what I can guess, she’s probably in Walter Library.”
Hiding in the stacks, I’d bet, just like I do at Stassen High. I nodded. “Let’s go.”
But instead of taking the stairs up to the sidewalk, Elias went through another door that opened to a tunnel. Glossy white paint covered the walls, and the ceiling curved slightly as if the channel had been dug by a giant worm. The place smelled of wet and basement. Bare bulbs in metal cages cast bright, artificial light. “And I thought the Bell Museum was creepy?”
Elias frowned. “I prefer the subterranean route myself.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
He certainly seemed to know where to turn and which forks to follow. We moved along the passageway so fast that when he stopped suddenly, I bumped into him. I apologized, but Elias didn’t respond. His whole body stretched taut, and he turned slowly, like an antenna seeking a signal.
Without a word, he backtracked several paces to a door I hadn’t noticed. We came out into a grand hallway lined with classrooms. Polished marble flooring gleamed in the moonlight eking through arched stone windows.
“Come,” Elias said, taking my hand to urge me forward. I hadn’t even realized I’d slowed down to peer through an open door at the swivel-arm desks lined up in attentive rows facing the long chalkboard filled with impressive scribbles. Down a shallow, open stair and out double doors, we emerged at the far end of Northrup Mall.
A swath of nearly treeless manicured grass, probably as long as, if not longer than, a football field, stretched between several buildings, including the library. With towering white Doric columns, Walter looked majestic, even in the dimly lit evening.
The doors were locked.
“Are you sure she’s in there?”
“Positive,” he said, shaking the brass handles again. “I could break the locks.”
“There’s probably an alarm,” I said, though as I stared up at the walls in frustration, I spotted an open window. I pointed to it. “Could you get up there?”
“Yes,” he said.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Mom hadn’t been answering any of my calls or texts, but I had an idea. I typed “911. We’re @Walter. A hunt called on u. Elias coming 2 help.”
“Do you think the hunt would risk the alarm?” I asked. “I mean, is she safe in there if you close the window behind you?”
“The hunger will make them insane,” he said, pacing the length of the building, judging the best route to the window. “And desperate. I’d also wager there’s a sewer or other maintenance access to the building.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to think. “How long before they get here?”
“The hunt is building.” He looked at me. When he blinked, his eyes flickered between human and cat-slit irises. “We don’t have much time.”
“Will you get ... you know, swept up?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
I needed nonvamp help. “You try to protect her until I can come back.”
“Where are you going?”
“If we’re going to fend off vampires, we’re going to need someone skilled in fighting them. I know just the guy.”
Nikolai used to live on the upper floor of a duplex near the Witch’s Hat Tower in Prospect Park, but the rent had gotten too high and the neighbors too irritated by the loud music. He and a bandmate, John, now shared a place in Dinkytown, the studentfocused area right around the U’s campus.
If I used my superpowers, I could be there in less than a minute.
Elias, however, wasn’t so sure. He put a hand on my shoulder. “The hunter’s apprentice? It’ll be a bloodbath.”