Team Human (9 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Vampire Promenade

“P
ermit me to accompany you home,” Francis said.

“We're cool,” I said.

“You're so kind,” said Cathy.

Guess who Francis the Selectively Deaf paid attention to?

I cast an imploring look at Kit and Camille.

“I'm sure Francis has things to do around the house,” I said. “Like his chores? Maybe somebody needs to scrub the toilet?”

“Vampires don't go to the bathroom,” Kit said gloomily. “So guess whose turn it always is to scrub the toilet.”

I was freaked out by the long-suffering way he said
vampires
, as if he was saying
adults
.

“The Shade is not entirely safe for human strangers at night,” Camille said, with an unreadable look at me that could have been an apology. “Better overcautious than missing a jugular vein, as the saying goes.”

That was a very morbid saying. Maybe only vampires said it.

Maybe only French vampires said it.

“I'll walk with you guys and Uncle Francis,” Kit offered.

Cathy heard that. Possibly it was hearing someone name Francis so familiarly that woke her from her reverie. She gave Francis an inquiring look.

“Sometimes I call him that,” Kit said. “Because he's an old person.”

“He has never called me that before in his life,” Francis remarked in a frozen voice.

“You probably don't remember,” Kit told him. “That's why it's best that I go with you, Uncle Francis. You could have one of your senile fits and end up forgetting your way home. Think how we'd miss you. Think how we'd miss the lute playing.”

Kit's eyes slid back to me to see if I was smiling.

I wasn't. Kit might be making fun of Francis, an activity I approved of and enjoyed, but I didn't do it in that easy, affectionate way. Inexplicable though it was, Kit was obviously fond of Francis.

Why were all the people I met drawn to vampires? You'd think they really did have hypnotic powers.

Francis, naturally, responded with all the warmth of an offended iceberg. “Kit, I beg of you not to display your usual insolence before guests. I dread to think what impressions Catherine has formed of our shade.”

“Oh no,” Cathy said. “Everyone's been lovely.”

“I offered to walk them home,” Kit put in. “Always the perfect little gentleman, yours truly.”

“You are too kind,” Francis murmured to Cathy. “Shall we, my dear?”

Cathy glowed, slipping her hand into the proffered crook of his arm, and he led her out the front door. Camille stood at the threshold, still and dignified, the lady of the house.

“Thank you for having us,” I heard Cathy tell Camille earnestly.

“Come back anytime. Either of you.” It was sweet of her not mention the fact that we had broken in.

I hoped we wouldn't be back. But given the way Cathy and Francis were looking at each other, it was a forlorn hope. I had a vision of incredibly awkward dinner parties, with half the table not eating. Of Ty and me chatting with Camille the vampire cop while Francis and Cathy sat on a sofa gazing into each other's eyes. Francis's feelings for her were obviously real. Sonnets? Ballads?

He couldn't have known that she would ever hear about them. I couldn't think of any reason for him to write them and torment his shade with lute playing unless he felt something for her.

Though who knew what vampires actually felt.

Even if it was real, it was still creepy.

“I need to get my bike,” I said, stomping down the front steps.

Kit kissed his mom on the cheek and then came down the porch steps to join me.

“Sorry about the petunia bed,” I mumbled as I picked up my bike and tried not to tread on the already trampled flowers.

“No problem,” he said. “Minty changes the whole garden every few months. Some vampires”—and he said the word that way again, as if they were the grown-ups—“get very bored. Landscape gardening. Redecorating. She's probably ready for something new anyway.”

I wondered how it was possible to garden only at night. Or maybe she had a suit like Francis.

“Minty?” I repeated.

Kit grinned at me. When I grinned back, he looked startled. His smile spread wider.

“Her name's Araminta. She hates it when I call her Minty. If you meet her, you probably shouldn't call her that.”

“I probably won't meet her.”

Kit stopped smiling.

Cathy and Francis were walking on up ahead, having, I imagined, a dreamy conversation about very little. “Oh, how I love you!” “Not so much as I love
you
!” I was glad I couldn't hear it.

“Let me take your bike.”

“I'm fine,” I said firmly.

I didn't know if the offer was Francis-trained chivalry or Kit reflecting on how puny human girls must be, but either way I didn't like it.

There were a lot of vampires gliding past. I suppose after midnight was the ideal time for vampires to take an afternoon stroll.

Some of them were wearing what I assumed were the height of fashion when they turned. I saw bustles and crinolines, parasols, flapper dresses, and formal shorts. (Vampires don't feel the cold.) Others were in more regular clothes, but somehow they still looked like they should be holding parasols and, indeed, some of them were. Added to that, they were strolling, but their stroll was almost as fast as I could run.

It was too, too weird. How could Kit stand it? Yet he seemed to
like
it.

Compared to the vampire women practically floating along on their escorts' arms, Cathy looked like she was stumbling. I was almost grateful to Francis for matching his speed to hers.

On the other hand, if it wasn't for Francis, neither of us would be here. I wouldn't be walking beside the oddest guy I'd ever met, wheeling my bike, while moonlight reflected off the still faces of vampires passing by. It was quite easily the strangest night of my life.

A vampire girl sailed down the sidewalk and inclined her head as she did so.

“Hello, Kit,” she said, her voice very cultured and adult.

“Hello, Mrs. Appleby,” Kit said, and smiled at her.

She didn't smile back, just kept sailing on.

“Mrs. Appleby?” I repeated. “She looks younger than us.”

“People got married at fourteen in the Middle Ages,” Kit answered. “She's a nice old thing. She used to bring me candy when I was a kid.”

“Oh.”

I stared at Francis's and Cathy's backs and resolved not to be rude and ask about Kit's strange life even though I was so curious I was about to burst.

“So you've lived in the Shade since you were little?” I asked, shamelessly breaking my resolution in under a second.

“I've lived here all my life,” Kit said, with a sidelong glance.

“I know I'm prying,” I said. “But a human, living with vampires! I'm dying to know.”

“You're dying every minute, but you won't die yet,” Kit said. I gave him a look and he muttered: “Something my mom says.”

I was silent. So was the world of the Shade. A vampire in jogging clothes zipped by, so fast his tracksuit was a blur, his running shoes barely stirring the grass.

“Vampires jog?” I couldn't help asking. “They need to stay fit?”

“No,” Kit said. “He's new. It's a human habit. It will leave him soon enough.”

I tried not to shudder. How did Kit cope, living in this place?

“Someone left me on their doorstep, the day I was born,” Kit said abruptly.

“Someone—” I started. “But why would—”

It wasn't like leaving a baby on the doorstep of a church or an orphanage. It was a
vampires' house.
In the Shade.

“It's something people do sometimes,” Kit said, his voice gentle. “If you have a baby you don't want anyone to know about. Vampires can disappear it without a trace.”

“Oh.” I felt ill. He was talking about babies being
murdered
.

“Kind of like getting Chinese food delivered,” Kit said. “Except getting Chinese food delivered to the Shade is actually a huge pain. When I was six, I wouldn't eat anything but potstickers for like two months, and Mom had to tip the delivery guy quadruple.”

I laughed and made a horrified face at the same time.

“But they chose the wrong doorstep for me,” Kit continued cheerfully. “Mom's a cop. She wasn't going to let anybody make me a delicious illegal snack. She said we had to hand me over to the human authorities, but Minty and Albert and June thought I was adorable and wanted to keep me, and Francis wanted to study me. He said I was a symbol of innocence they could all contemplate, and I think Marie-Therese was hoping that once the novelty wore off, they'd let her munch on me after all. They took a vote, and so I stayed.”

“Democracy at work,” I murmured, wondering how big a margin Kit's fate had been decided by. And yet I'd still grinned at Kit's eye roll when he mentioned Francis's contribution to the baby debate.

How could someone leave a baby on a doorstep for monsters to feed on? How could someone do that, and consider themselves human afterward?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kit, Short for …

W
e were finally out of the Shade and I was glad. Still in the old part of town, but there were neon lights flickering on some buildings and an all-night convenience store with one or two human customers. We were in the real world, bright with colors and life. A few more blocks and we'd be in more familiar surroundings, walking past my favorite coffee shop.

The relief of it had me volunteering: “So they obviously didn't get tired of you.”

“Oh, they were sick to the fangs of me by the time I was a year old,” Kit said, still sounding amused. “But my mom doesn't quit once she's taken on a responsibility. And I was a smart kid. They still tell stories about how I used to stagger around holding on to her leg. The others had phases when they fussed over me, but even though Mom thought I was a nuisance—she wanted to get out and do her job—she was the responsible one. She made sure I was fed and cared for. She wore one of those dumb suits and woke me up for walks during the day so I wouldn't get rickets. Poor Mom, she took me on enough walks that I knew my way home, so it was no good leaving me on someone else's doorstep. I bet she was tempted, though.”

“Bet she wasn't.” I bumped Kit in the hip with my bike, a bit harder than I'd meant to.

“Ow,” he said, but he looked pleased.

We'd drawn level with Cathy and Francis at last—we were at Cathy's house. I was almost disappointed. I had lots more to ask Kit.

Cathy and Francis were bidding each other a drawn-out farewell on the porch. I saw Francis touch her face.

“This whole Cathy and Francis thing is horrible,” I announced.

“You don't know anything about horrible,” Kit said. “You haven't heard the ballad.”

It was more support than I'd received from anyone else except Kristin, so I opened my mouth to say something else when Cathy called out, “Good-bye, Mel! See you in the morning.”

It seemed so normal. I waved back at her. “See you!”

“Now we will escort you home, Melanie,” Francis said, before noticing something and looking scandalized. “Good heavens, Christopher, take the lady's bicycle!”

“Er,” Kit said.

“I told him I had it.”

“She wouldn't let me, Francis.”

Francis looked disapproving and went to stand beside Kit. I was pleased to see that Kit was a head taller. Mind you, quite a few guys were taller than Francis. He'd been born in England in the 1800s. They weren't big on nutritious bone-building food back then. Francis had probably grown up on gruel and boar fat.

“In which direction do we proceed?” Francis asked.

“It's close,” I said. “I can go the rest of the way by myself.”

“I wouldn't hear of it,” Francis said firmly.

I sighed and headed home. Maybe I could dissuade him from taking me to my front door. I had, once again, taken off without my parents' knowledge.

“You'll find Melanie is quite a character,” Francis told Kit.

I decided not to point out that I was right here.

“Will I?” asked Kit. “How will I find Cathy? Aside from star-kissed. And still my age.”

“Cathy is extremely mature for her age—”

“She'd have to be, wouldn't she?”

“While you, I regret to say, despite the advantage of your upbringing, are not.”

“Aw, Uncle Francis,” Kit said.

I snorted. Francis looked vexed.

“About Cathy,” I said. “My objections are unaltered.” (How's that for Francis-speak?) “As Kit says, she's much, much younger than you. Then there's the matter of the book you're writing about her.”

Francis looked, to all appearances, honestly scandalized. I'd seen scandalized on Francis a lot by now—I seemed to bring it out in him—and I was sure it was genuine.

“My book is not about Cathy.”

“
On Adolescent
Homo sapiens sapiens
and Love
is not about the human girl you're pretending to be in love with for the sake of your research?”

“
Pretending?
What kind of a blackguard do you think I am? I'll have you know my love is sincere. Furthermore—”

“It's true,” Kit said loudly, cutting him off. “He's really in love with her.”

After tonight's display I had to admit that might be true. “But what about your book?”

“My
book
, as you so crudely put it, is not merely about adolescent humans in love. That is but one chapter of the whole. My magnum opus, which has already run to several volumes, is a history of human and vampire emotions. For far too long there have been claims that we vampires have none or that they are muted compared to those of humans. Pure human prejudice. Some of our emotions are different, I will concede, but different is not the same as lesser. I am writing the monumental work that will refute those claims for all eternity and enable humans and vampires to communicate in a spirit of mutual understanding and goodwill. In order to prove my thesis, it was necessary to study both human and vampire emotions. To compare and contrast. I have found that …”

“Now you've done it,” Kit whispered. “He won't stop for months.”

I giggled.

“I will desist,” Francis said icily. “I am sorry that one of the great works of all time is so tedious to you, Christopher. And a source of mirth to you, Melanie.”

“My name's not Melanie,” I said, exasperated.

“Mine's not Christopher,” Kit said.

“Yes, it is,” said Francis, addressing me. “He's named after Christopher Marlowe. The poet and playwright. If not for his tragically early death, I feel it likely that he, and not Shakespeare, would have been remembered as the preeminent genius of his—”

“Cathy's been my best friend since birth,” I interrupted. “I know who Kit Marlowe is.”

“Yes, of course, you would. She is remarkably learned for one so young.”

I tried not to make a face.

“May I have a word with you, Melan—Mel?”

I nodded. Francis gestured for Kit to step away.

“With regard to our arrangement, are you still determined to prevent me from attending your school?”

I stared at Francis.

“I know I agreed not to see Cathy again. But as you can see …” He waved his hand in the direction of Cathy's house.

“The deal's off,” I said. “You can come back to school. I won't tell anyone.”

I could see that telling Cathy about his book would have zero effect.

“Thank you,” Francis said. “I will not soon forget this. She means everything to me.”

“Uh, sure,” I said. I was still wondering why he specifically didn't want Principal Saunders to know about the book that was listed in his file. It made no sense.

And, of course, if Principal Saunders didn't know about the book, why was she acting so weird? Why did she hate him? Solely because he was a vampire?

I needed answers. Anna needed answers, and I didn't know how to get them.

Francis drifted into a romantic trance, i.e., he forgot to keep pace with us mere mortals. That gave Kit a chance to cough, and bump against my bike.

“Not really,” he said.

“What?” I asked. We were almost home, and I was thinking about what my parents would say if they saw me with a vampire. Not that they're prejudiced, but they'd be a bit surprised. Plus they didn't know I wasn't in my room.

“I'm not really named after Christopher Marlowe,” Kit said. “Mom and Francis pretend that I am. But I remember what the others used to call me when I was really little.”

He leaned in and told me with a small smile.

As they walked away, I stood in the darkness, thinking about the world my best friend had got herself mixed up in.

A world of darkness and silence—except for the occasional lute playing. A world of monsters, where humans abandoned their babies knowing they would never be heard from again.

Or if the monsters on a whim took in the baby, they would carelessly let the child know exactly what he was to them. Not a son, but a pet.

They would call him Kitten.