The Fangs of Bloodhaven (16 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“Annie says she feels like she hasn’t seen you in weeks,” Celeste said when she set the cup of blood in front of Everett at dinner.

“She said that, huh?” Everett replied.

Celeste grinned at him. “Yes, she did.”

Everett smiled back. Annie couldn’t say more than a few syllables, but he had no doubt she had gotten across that she was bothered by his prolonged absence. He usually visited them every night before they went to bed, but the Asylum had sidetracked his normal routine. Guilt filled him.

“I’ll make it up to them,” he promised. He took a bite of chicken and listened to the current conversation.

“What about baseball?” Donavan was asking their mom.

“I still think you’re too young to be a coach,” she replied with a hint of exasperation as though they had spoken of it early that day.

“Jeremy coached basketball last year. They need student coaches to train or they’ll run out of regular coaches ready to work for the city leagues.”

His father looked at Donavan over the newspaper. “Are you sure you want to work for the city?”

Donavan nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s the best opportunity I’m going to get in sports. I don’t want to give it up.”

“What about biology?” Mr. Masterson asked. “You got the highest marks in school. Are you sure you don’t want to go into a science field?”

A hint of sadness touched Donavan’s eyes. He looked at Celeste. Everett caught the encouraging nod his sister gave his older brother. Donavan sighed. “Dad, I can’t do it. I can’t study and research knowing that the Kingship has control over what I put out there. I don’t want to be stopped at any hint of progress.” He shook his head with true apology in his voice. “I just can’t take it.”

Mr. Masterson set a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said.

Relief filled Donavan’s face. “You do?”

Their father nodded. “If anyone understands the frustration of being checked at every turn, I do. Follow your heart. If you want to coach, I’ll support you.”

Donavan hugged his dad, then turned his gaze on their mother. “Mom?”

She looked at her husband. Mr. Masterson gave a small lift of his skinny shoulders. She sighed and nodded. “Fine, Donny. We’ll sign the forms.”

Donavan jumped up from his chair and gave her a hug. Mrs. Masterson laughed. “Now, now. Finish your stuffed chicken before it gets cold.”

Donavan kissed her on the cheek. “I will. Thanks, Mom.”

“The chicken tastes like dog food,” Hadley informed them.

Everett ruffled his brother’s red hair. “It’s a good thing you like dog food, then, isn’t it?”

Hadley nodded and took a huge bite.

“Evy, do you wanna play dolls after dinner?” Isabella asked from his other side.

Everett smiled down at her. “That would be really fun,” he said. “I owe Annie and Bran a visit, but maybe after, okay?” He used his napkin to wipe a smear of egg salad from her cheek.

She nodded with a huge smile. “Will you be Mr. Ruffleton?”

“Mr. Ruffleton,” Gabe repeated in a singsong voice from the other side of the table.

“I will,” Everett said, winking at her. “But only if you’ll be Mr. Penelope.”

“Evy,” she giggled. “Penelope’s a girl!”

“Rett doesn’t know boys from girls,” Finch called.

“You don’t know boys from girls,” Gabe replied.

Finch shoved him, nearly throwing him to the floor. Donavan caught them both from behind.

“You know the difference between boys and girls?” their big brother asked.

Celeste grabbed both their cups of water. “Girls are better at revenge,” she said. She poured the cups on their heads while Donavan held them there.

“Now, children,” Mrs. Masterson said.

“Oh, Lucy, let them play,” Mr. Masterson replied.

Donavan’s roll landed on their father’s plate, sending mashed potatoes and gravy all over his newspaper. Everyone paused.

Mr. Masterson used his napkin to carefully wipe off the paper. He then folded it and set it aside. As his children watched, Mr. Masterson picked up the roll and chucked it back. It hit Donavan square in the chest and stuck for a moment before falling to the ground.

“How’s that for baseball?” their father asked.

Donavan grinned and wiped the gravy off his shirt. “First of all, you need a bat.”

“Finch, Gabe, go get the bat, ball, and mitts,” Mr. Masterson said.

“Really?” Donavan asked with excitement.

Mr. Masterson shrugged. “Why not? You want to coach, why not practice with your family.”

“Awesome,” Donavan replied.

At Mr. Masterson’s urging, all of the Masterson children hurried to the front yard. Mrs. Masterson soon followed with her hair tied back in a bun. Donavan and their father positioned the younger kids around the lawn in as close to a diamond as they could manage.

“Rett, you’re up,” Donavan said.

Even though Everett tried to avoid any kind of sport where someone might bleed, his brother was always quick to throw him in right away. Everett knew it was pointless to argue, especially since Finch and Gabe would soon follow if he gave up. He wanted to be a good example to them.

“You’ve got this, honey,” Mrs. Masterson said, grabbing the bat before Gabe could hit his twin.

Everett accepted it and made his way to the dishrag Donavan had set near the fence.

“Hey, batter, batter, batter,” Donavan called, winding up.

“Hey, butter, butter, butter,” Finch echoed from first base where their mom had sent him.

Everett settled the bat above his shoulder. The few times he had played baseball with his family and in school before he was diagnosed felt very inadequate at that moment. Donavan threw the ball; before he could react, it slammed into the mitt his father held behind him.

“Strike one,” Donavan called.

Mr. Masterson pulled his hand out of his mitt and shook it. “Maybe try a little less speed, sport,” he told Donavan. “I don’t know if any of your siblings could hit that.”

“Rett can,” Donavan replied with a knowing smile. He winked at Everett. “Come on, bro. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Everett settled the bat on his shoulder again. He couldn’t get his muscles to relax. The feeling of the moonlight above was distracting. He tried to will his mind to focus.

The ball sped by again. He swung, but the ball had already hit his father’s glove.

“Last time,” Donavan said. Everett’s older brother didn’t look a bit perturbed at Everett’s poor showing. Mr. Masterson tossed the ball back. Donavan gave their father a challenging look. “Ready for this one, pops? It’s gonna have some sting in it.”

“I don’t know, Donny. The last two—”

The ball was already out of Donavan’s hand. Everett could hear it sailing through the air. He took in a breath and pushed his energy together, channeling it into a hot pit of fire in his stomach. The ball was almost to him. He let out the breath and swung.

The bat hit the ball so hard the bat cracked as the ball sailed across the cul-de-sac. The twins took off running after it.

“Whoa!” Hadley said from the porch.

“Run!” Mr. Masterson urged from behind Everett.

Even though there wasn’t a chance of Finch or Gabe returning with the ball before Everett cleared the bases, he ran as if there was. Donavan, their father, and their mother gave him high-fives when he crossed the last base. He grinned, feeling like he was on top of the world.

“Rett split it!” Finch called when they reached the driveway.

“He split it down the middle!” Gabe echoed.

Donavan caught the ball Finch tossed him. He smiled and handed it to Everett.

“I said you could do it!” his older brother told him.

Everett grinned, looking at the tattered object in his hand. “I ruined the ball.”

“Here’s the next one,” their father called from the porch.

Donavan caught it. “Rett?” he asked. “Want to go again?”

Everett shook his head. “I think Mom needs a chance to hit.”

“Oh, no, not me,” she protested, but she made her way to the batting square just the same.

Everett handed her the bat and took her glove. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ve got this.”

“Show us how it’s done,” Mr. Masterson said, kneading his mitt.

Everett jogged over to second base where his mom had been waiting. He put on the glove and waited. Donavan zipped the first one to their father. After a warning look to give their mom a chance, Donavan tossed the next one. Mrs. Masterson bunted it to the middle of the field.

“Throw it!” Gabe yelled at Finch.

Finch chucked it and the ball went high over his twin’s head. Their mom took advantage of the situation and ran for second, then third. Gabe fumbled under the bushes by the fence for the ball. He finally rose and threw it as hard as he could at his dad. The ball hit the ground and rolled. Finch ran for the ball. Mrs. Masterson slowed. She let Finch catch her just before she scored.

“Yes!” Finch shouted. He did a victory dance, then ran over and slapped a high five handshake mix with his brother so complicated the others had no hope of joining in.

“Amazing!” Gabe yelled.

“That’s right,” Finch said. “We’re totally awesome.”

“Yes, we are,” Gabe agreed.

“I’m glad our kids have no problem with self-esteem,” Mr. Masterson noted wryly.

His wife smiled. “Then we’re doing good.”

He pulled her into a hug. “Yes, we are,” he said before kissing her on the nose.

“Ew, gross,” the twins said at the same time. “Girls have cooties.”

“Yes, they do,” their father agreed. “But not your mother. She’s too cool for cooties.”

“That would be a good shirt,” Celeste noted.

“What are coodees?” Isabella asked from where she sat next to Hadley on the porch steps.

“Girl germs,” Gabe told her.

“Boy germs,” Celeste said.

“What are germs?” Hadley asked.

Everybody laughed.

“Here, bud, take my place out there, okay?” Everett told his little brother.

Hadley’s face lit up. “Okay!” he said. He grabbed the mitt Everett held out and jumped off the porch.

“Are you okay, Everett?” his mother asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I just owe Bran and Annie a visit.” He gave Celeste a smile which she returned.

“Bran wanted to watch a movie,” she said. “Annie will be thrilled to see you.”

She gestured at the little wired monitor on the porch. He could see both siblings sitting in the sunroom watching the video screen on the wall. Annie’s preference for her siblings over movies was well-known. Usually whenever Bran wanted to watch a movie, one of the siblings sat with Annie. With everyone outside, Everett was glad to get personal time with them.

Both of his older siblings’ faces lit up when Everett entered the sunroom. Annie gave her little wave.

“Sorry I’ve been gone so long,” Everett apologized. He took the seat between their electric wheelchairs facing them. “It’s been crazy, to say the least.”

“Wa?” Annie asked.

Everett glanced behind him to see if anyone else was listening. Annie and Bran could never tell his secrets, but if the others overheard, he had no doubt his mom and dad would ban him from going to the Asylum.

He lowered his voice. “I found a place where monsters like me are welcome.”

“Na,” Annie said.

Everett smiled at her. “It’s okay. Vampires are monsters. They don’t fit in with humans.” He winked at her. “You guys have put up with me long enough to know why I don’t really belong here.”

Bran’s eyes widened. Everett knew his brother so well he could read the fear on his face.

“Don’t worry,” he quickly reassured him. “I’m not going to leave, I promise. The place is close, especially through the tunnels, and I’m careful. I’ve been going there at night and I come back. It’s not really a place I’d want to stay.”

“Wa?” Annie asked.

Everett sat back. “Well, there’s this girl. You met Adrielle.”

Bran huffed a laugh.

Everett grinned. “Hey, it’s not like that.” He shook his head. “She’s taken, and she’s a werewolf.”

Both his siblings stared at him.

Everett gestured at the almost-full moon visible through the glass ceiling. “She can change into a wolf in the moonlight. I told Mom about it. I’m hoping she’ll come back and visit again. I think it will further Mom and Dad’s research.”

“Ad,” Annie said happily.

He smiled at his older sister’s excitement. “But if she comes back over, it’ll be just as a friend. She’s got a boyfriend who’s a warlock.” At their questioning looks, he explained, “It’s like a glorified magician. He can make things disappear.”

Bran sat up a little bit in his chair. It was his sign of being really interested in something. Everett bit back his pride and told Bran what he wanted to know. “This guy’s name is Vanguard. He waved his hand over a book I was carrying and it disappeared. This place, the Monster Asylum, looks like it’s ten stories high from the outside, but when you push a button on the elevator, all these numbers appear and it actually goes up to thirty-three floors! Vanguard was able to hide the rest of them using his magic so that the DRAK don’t find them. It’s pretty amazing.”