The Otherworldlies (16 page)

“No, thank you, Fannie. We’ll be in here for a little while, so if you wouldn’t mind holding my calls and shutting the door behind you . . . ,” Mr. Kimble said, smiling at his airhead secretary. Mr. Kimble preferred his secretaries to be somewhat dim; the smart ones always asked too many questions. Fannie left the room and watched as Mr. Kimble closed the blinds covering both of the glass-paneled walls. Alistair Kimble then took his seat and prepared himself for a long morning.

“Thank you all for coming,” Kenneth Quagmire began, sitting to Alistair’s left. Mrs. McAllister, glad to have her daughter back in plain view, held Fern’s small hand in her own underneath the table. She looked at Kenneth Quagmire, who was full of dapper vanity. He reminded her of some of the wealthy fathers at St. Gregory’s PTA meetings. Sam and Lindsey sat close by, not having spoken a word, per Bing’s instructions, since they entered Kimble & Kimble.

“Does the chief vampire also work at Disneyland?” Sam whispered to Lindsey, unable to hold his tongue any longer as he looked at the man he had believed was director of operations at Disneyland.

“Of course not. Chief Kenneth Quagmire’s one of the most powerful men in the world!” Lindsey whispered back emphatically, unable to take her eyes off the man sitting at the head of the table.

“Miss Lin, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Chief Quagmire said, letting the children know that Fern wasn’t the only one with exceptional hearing. “Sam, I pretended to be Don Camille because I had to get Fern out of a bind. My name is Kenneth Quagmire, and I am chief of the Vampire Alliance.”

“An alliance? How many vampires
are
there?” Sam asked without waiting a beat.

“Quite a few,” Quagmire answered. “You must remember, as a people, we’re very hard to kill.” The chief laughed at his inside joke.

“So you are like the head Rollen?” Sam asked, unable to curb his curiosity.

Quagmire took in a large breath and waited a few moments before releasing it. He looked intently at Sam.

“The four of you,” he said, looking at the McAllisters and Lindsey Lin, “are going to have a lot of technical questions about all this, but if you could save them for the end, I think it’ll be a lot easier on everybody.” His voice was strong and conveyed an authority that comforted Sam and Fern. Chief Quagmire continued.

“There are a few of us at this table whom the world would consider ‘vampires.’ Alistair Kimble you all know, of course. He’s been head of the Grand Canyon District for decades now. I’ve already introduced myself. Lindsey Lin is the youngest of the Lin family, who are very important members of our community. Also, Joseph Bing, who brought you here and just left, you know as St. Gregory’s custodian. He’s been a custodian of a different sort as well, because of a special case. Now—”

“I think you should stop stalling,” Fern said matter-of-factly. “I’m the reason we’re all here, aren’t I? I’m the ‘special case,’ right? I’m tired of being lied to. So if someone would just start explaining all of this to Sam and me and my mom . . .”

Though Mrs. McAllister gave her daughter’s hand a tight squeeze under the table, the look of shock in her mother’s eyes made Fern want to race out of the room. The only thing keeping her there was the hope of learning more. Although Fern didn’t know what exactly she was expecting from this conversation with Mr. Kimble and Chief Quagmire, one thing was clear: There weren’t going to be any easy answers. Only hard ones.

“You’re absolutely right, Fern,” Chief Quagmire began. “You are the reason we’re here. There’s no way around it. We need to discuss who, exactly, you are and what we plan to do about it. I think we should start with the sad tale of Phoebe Merriam.” Chief Quagmire finished by taking a sip of his water and turning his head toward Alistair Kimble.

“Give her the letter, Alistair,” Chief Quagmire said.

Alistair Kimble looked very pained.

“There’s no sense in waiting,” Chief Quagmire added, looking irritated.

Alistair Kimble placed his index finger on his cheek and rested it there. He then cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Shortly before she died, Phoebe wrote her last wishes down in a letter and gave it to me,” Alistair Kimble said, exhaling as he spoke. “The letter should be yours to keep, Fern.”

“I’m not sure
this
is a good idea!” Mrs. McAllister exclaimed.

Ignoring Mary Lou, Mr. Kimble pulled a crinkled and dirty paper out of his coat and laid it on the desk in front of Fern. Fern seized the letter, which was handwritten in blotted blue ink. Everyone was watching her now, especially her mother. Her eyes fixed on it.

Alistair,

If you’re reading this, then I haven’t made it.

There is a woman, a lifelong friend, named Mary Lou McAllister. Take Fern to her. I know it’s not customary to leave Otherworldlies with Normals, but I want her out of harm’s way. Mary Lou will raise Fern and love her as her own. I beg of you, respect my wishes.

Yours,
Phoebe

Fern hadn’t even looked up before Alistair began to speak again.

“Your mother,” he said, glancing at Mrs. McAllister, “your birth mother, rather—Phoebe Merriam—lived in a town called Barstow off the interstate on the way to Las Vegas. You were born there,” Alistair continued, as dryly as if he were reading the synopsis to a movie he was thinking about renting. “By bringing you to Mary Lou, we honored her wish.” Sam and Lindsey blanched.

“Is that what the letter says?” Sam demanded.

“Yeah, is that true, Fern?” Lindsey echoed.

Every eye in the room shot toward Fern and Mrs. McAllister. This latest revelation made Fern dizzy. She wanted to go somewhere, to leave all of it behind her.

“I’m . . . I’m . . . ,” Fern started. Her mother’s grip had tightened like a noose around her hand.

“I’m adopted?” Fern said, finally getting the words out.

Mrs. McAllister turned in her chair and faced her daughter. There was pain and confusion in Fern’s face. This was not how she had wanted Fern to find out! There was no plan, no thought. Yet she was powerless to change the facts. This was one battle the Commander didn’t begin to know how to fight.

“I love you, Fern, more than anything,” she said. “We all do.”

Mrs. McAllister’s eyes shot down to her hand that, a moment ago, had been interlocked with Fern’s. She opened it.

It was now empty.

Fern was gone. She looked at Fern’s empty chair. “No!” she shouted.

“Wow,” Lindsey said under her breath.

“Unbelievable,” Chief Quagmire said, curious but calm.

“She’s teleported,” Alistair Kimble said. “We shouldn’t have made such a grave departure from protocol, Kenneth.”

“You and your protocol, Alistair. Sometimes I find it hard to believe you have a beating heart underneath that three-piece suit of yours. Do you think we should have waited until she started disappearing right and left? I’m afraid we’re there, Alistair,” Chief Quagmire said. “She had to find out sooner or later.”

“What have you people done?” Mrs. McAllister demanded. Kenneth Quagmire got up almost immediately and walked behind Mrs. McAllister. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he started to speak.

“You
will
calm down, Mrs. McAllister. We still have a few things to discuss and we
will
find Fern.”

“Fern’s adopted?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Chief Quagmire said, looking at Sam briefly before turning back to Mrs. McAllister. “You must hear me out for one minute. We will find her momentarily. Now, what makes Fern particularly unusual,” Chief Quagmire continued, “is that she is the first Otherworldly on record to be raised by Normals.” Chief Quagmire scanned the table. “Ordinarily, it is our policy to put orphans with Otherworldly families, without exception.”

Sam looked at his mother, whose expressionless face blinked now and then, but otherwise seemed dead. Chief Quagmire must have put his mother in a trance.

“Sam and Mary Lou, you are two of only a handful of Normals who know about us Otherworldlies. We’re putting trust in both of you by telling you all this. We’ve lived alongside Normals without major incident for centuries. I’d hate for that balance to be disrupted,” Chief Quagmire said, looking only at Sam.

“We have to find Fern!” Sam said. “She’s got to be really upset.” Chief Quagmire looked at him and within the instant, Sam fell silent, with a dull look in his eyes.

“Vampires have evolved, much like humans, into a sophisticated species. We are much different from what you may think of when you think of a vampire. Which is why, today, there is a movement to abandon the term
vampire
altogether. It’s too laden with terrible baggage. We are peaceful, for the most part,” Quagmire continued, reaching to his neck and loosening his dark green tie. “But just as there are humans of questionable moral fiber, there are also Otherworldlies with similar qualities.”

Mr. Kimble had not spoken a word and was stewing in his seat.

“Fern’s ability to teleport—the reason she’s been disappearing,” Chief Quagmire said, “sets her apart from almost every vampire in existence. It’s an ability that we’ve never seen before. These corrupt vampires, Blouts, as they are commonly known,” he continued, clearing his throat, “may want to eliminate Fern because she’s different. They’ll view her as a threat.

“Her appearance at Disneyland on TV,” he continued, running his fingers through his glossy black hair, “has made her a prime target.”

With that, Chief Kenneth Quagmire released Mrs. McAllister from his gaze. Her head snapped back and the color returned to her face. She looked around, skeptically eyeing Quagmire as he returned to his chair. Lindsey’s mouth opened; she tried to speak, but couldn’t.

Mrs. McAllister bolted toward the door. Sam’s face returned to normal as he quickly followed. They pushed the conference door open.

“Where are you going?” Mr. Kimble said.

“We’re going to find Fern,” Mrs. McAllister said.

“I’ll bet you one thing,” Sam said, narrowing his eyes at the two men. “She’s certainly not gonna wander back here.”

Lindsey Lin jumped up and stood next to Sam.

“I’m sorry that things have worked out this way, but you’ve got to remember that we’re on your side,” Chief Quagmire said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Mrs. McAllister said, stepping in front of Sam and Lindsey. “And I’m afraid the verdict’s still out.” Mrs. McAllister didn’t stop the door from slamming shut behind her.

Mr. Kimble and Chief Quagmire sat motionless in the conference room.

“They’ll find her, Alistair,” Chief Quagmire said.

“Before Vlad does?” Mr. Kimble said, holding back some of his fear.

“Vlad doesn’t know who Fern is for sure. We have time.”

“I’m going to get in contact with Bing and determine if he can’t figure out where she teleported to,” Mr. Kimble said.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to headquarters. Please keep me posted,” Chief Quagmire said, abruptly rising from his seat.

Without fanfare, without a red carpet, a motorcade, or so much as a good-bye, Kenneth Quagmire, the highest-ranking member of the Rollen Assembly, the man in charge of the Vampire Alliance, walked out of the offices of Kimble & Kimble.

Slim shards of sunlight slipped through the blinds, marking the hardwood floor with a gratelike pattern.

“Mr. Kimble?”

Alistair Kimble, previously deep in thought, looked up from his desk. Fannie Burrill stood in front of him.

“Yes, Fannie? What is it?”

“Was that the girl from Disneyland? The one on the news?” she asked timidly. “In the conference room before?”

“You know that’s confidential. A very sensitive case, in fact,” Mr. Kimble said.

“She’s a cute little thing,” Fannie said, rather timidly. “She looked very pale though. Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Kimble said, in an uncharacteristically candid moment.

Chapter 12
the day the water
flew out of the pool

“W
hen he looked at me, I couldn’t do or say anything,” Sam said. Recounting the incident gave him a slight chill. “It was like I was watching a movie of myself.”

“I felt the same way,” Mrs. McAllister said, still amazed.

Lindsey ran into the living room, breathless.

“That’s because,” she said, breathing heavily, “Chief Quagmire’s one of the most powerful Hermes around.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“He’s a Hermes.”

“Another one of your stupid names.”

“It’s not
my
stupid name. It’s got history and it’s the way everything is categorized. Everything has a name, Sam. You’ve just never heard these before, so you think they’re strange. Anyway, a Hermes is a very rare and powerful type of vampire. From what my parents say, Chief Quagmire’s a whiz at mind control and a bunch of other things.” Lindsey sank on the couch. Mrs. McAllister, Lindsey, and Sam had reassembled in the McAllister living room, having searched San Juan for the last three hours.

“Did you find anything at the grove, Lindsey?” Mrs. McAllister said, changing the subject.

“I checked every inch of it,” Lindsey said. “She’s definitely not there.”

“I looped past Swallow’s Inn and through the mission. She’s not there,” Sam offered. “And Byron’s not here either; I bet they’re together. Those two are always together.”

“I’ve been yelling her name through the whole neighborhood,” Lindsey added.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Sam said, almost to himself.

“Did you check the TV?” Lindsey said.

“Yes,” Mrs. McAllister responded. “No sign of her there, thank God.” Mrs. McAllister’s face was lined with worry.

“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” Lindsey said. “I think she teleported on purpose this time.”

“I know you’re against them, but maybe it’s time you got Fern a cell phone,” Sam said to the Commander. “If she’s going to keep disappearing like this, it might come in handy.”

“That is not a helpful comment right now.”

The three sat on the leather couches, staring at each other. The house phone rang, cutting through the tension in the room. Mrs. McAllister got up and went into the kitchen to answer it.

After a minute or two, she returned.

“That was Mrs. Larkey,” Mrs. McAllister said.

“The Freak Doctor?” Lindsey blurted out.

“That’s what you call her? Well, she wanted to let me know that Fern hadn’t come to school. Because kids had seen her outside of school, Mrs. Larkey wanted to make sure Fern was all right,” the Commander said.

“Yeah, we were almost inside the gate when Lindsey pulled us back to the grove,” Sam said.

“Wait,” Lindsey said. “She called
just
to ask if Fern was really absent? Isn’t that strange?”

“It did seem odd,” the Commander answered.

“What if Larkey has something to do with the Blouts looking for Fern?” Sam said, concerned. “What did you tell her?”

“I told Mrs. Larkey that Fern was sick.”

“Mrs. Larkey’s new to St. Gregory’s, right? Didn’t they hire her this year?” Lindsey questioned.

“Yes,” Sam answered.

The front door opened. Eddie raced into the living room, out of breath. Though Mrs. McAllister did not tell Eddie everything, she did inform him that Fern was missing as soon as he came home from school. Eddie vowed to cover every inch of San Juan looking for Fern until he found her.

“Guys!”

“What is it, Eddie?” the Commander said, rising from the couch in one movement.

“Mr. Summers’s house!” Eddie said, pointing across the street. “It’s on fire!”

Most houses in the neighborhood had switched to Spanish tile roofs because the wooden shingles of several older houses had gone up in a blaze fanned by the Santa Ana winds the previous summer. Mr. Wallace Summers, though, was probably unaware of this when he moved in.

The gathering broke up as everyone sprinted to the front yard. Sure enough, red flames danced along the wood-shingled roof of the house. Hot glowing ash floated in the air, landing on roofs up and down the streets. If one ember ignited a dry piece of wood, the whole neighborhood would erupt in flames.

Lindsey, Eddie, Sam, and Mrs. McAllister convened across the street from the blaze as a steady stream of dark smoke curled up to the sky. The street was still; apparently no one else was home to see the blaze.

“Someone go in and call nine-one-one,” the Commander ordered.

“I’ll do it,” Eddie said, running back toward the house. The flames grew taller as the fire swallowed more shingles whole.

Sam was the first to see the water splash onto the rooftop.

“Look!” Sam said, pointing at the sky. A perfect arc of water about a foot wide flowed above them and landed on the burning roof, dousing the flames. It was as if they were standing underneath a rainbow of water flowing through the sky. Spray from the arc sprinkled down on the McAllisters and Lindsey. Sam followed the stream of water from the rooftop with his eyes. It disappeared behind the fence in the McAllisters’ backyard, which Sam reasoned was an odd location for a fire truck.

The flames dancing on Wallace Summers’s rooftop dwindled as the steady stream of water drenched the shingles. Sam ran to the fence, hopping up and onto the upper support beam of the wooden planks.

“The water’s flying out of the pool!” Sam exclaimed.

The cascading stream above Mrs. McAllister mesmerized her. It could have very well come from a hose, a powerful hose with an extremely wide nozzle, back behind the fence. She rushed over to Sam to see for herself.

“Oh . . . my . . . Lord.” Her pumps sank into the muddy planter just beyond the fence.

She turned back around. A few neighbors had come out of their houses and had wandered into the middle of the street. Lindsey was now across the road with Mr. Summers’s garden hose in her clutches. The stream of water had disappeared; the doused rooftop sizzled and smoked, but the fire had been extinguished.

“The water pressure was really good,” Lindsey yelled, holding out the hose after Doris Grady asked how she had managed to put out the fire. Mrs. McAllister took a deep breath and crossed the street.

“Good thinking, Lindsey—turning the hose on the roof like that before things got out of control.” Mary Lou winked.

Sam marveled for a minute at the Commander, who was in full form. He was confident that she would handle the situation. In the distance, he could hear the frantic whirring of sirens. The fire department would arrive soon, but Sam had other things on his mind. Slipping back into the house, he ran to the backyard. Water lapped in the pool, which was now half empty.

Sam began a careful inspection of every tree, leaf by leaf, that lined the fence next to the Gradys’ yard. When he got to the oak in the southeast corner of the lot, he stopped.

There they were: the red rubber bottoms of Fern’s slip-on Vans. He could make out Fern’s school uniform among the leaves. Fern had climbed high up before, but never this high. Sam estimated her height at around thirty feet. He caught sight of Byron’s shaggy white tail right beside his sister. Fern had managed to coax the dog up with her once again.

“Fern, I know you’re up there,” he yelled.

He received no response.

“I knew it had to be you—that you must be in a tree—or how else would you have been able to see both the fire and the water?”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” Fern said, her voice drifting down to Sam.

“Fern, please come down! I want to talk to you,” Sam said, pleading with his twin sister.

“Go away!” Fern yelled.

“I know you’re the one that saved Mr. Summers’s house. You moved the water, just like you did with Dana Carvelle. Only it was a lot more water this time,” Sam said, turning around toward the half-empty pool, amazed at just how much water his sister had used. He turned back around and squinted at the tree. The breeze rustled the leaves.

“Fern?” He could no longer make out his sister. “Fern, where’d you go?” Byron whimpered, having been left all alone, thirty feet up in an oak tree. Fern McAllister had disappeared for the second time that day.

When Fern had teleported from the offices of Kimble & Kimble to the oak tree in the backyard, she had developed a slight headache. When she reappeared this time, her head ached so much she thought it might split right down the middle. Part of her figured this would be a fitting end to what was turning out to be a pretty miserable week.

She was in the fetal position, practically eating dirt. The last thing she remembered thinking to herself as she hid in the oak tree was
I want to be anywhere but here
. Anywhere but here, it turned out, was in a far-flung corner of Anderson’s Grove. She needed to get her ability to teleport under control, and she needed to do it quickly.

In the distance, she could hear the faint cry of Lindsey Lin calling her name. Coughing as she rose to her feet, Fern sensed someone standing behind her.

“I have been waiting,” said a voice so low it sounded like the deep rumbling of an earthquake.

Fern almost jumped out of her skin. She stumbled into the trunk of a nearby tree. A few oranges dropped to the ground around her from the impact she’d had on the trunk. She looked down, only to be greeted by several dead birds gathered under the tree.

“No!” she shrieked, unable to contain her terror, backing away from the oranges and birds.

She turned around and caught sight of a man, over seven feet tall, towering above her. A dark goatee, neatly trimmed, framed his thin red lips. Shiny locks of black hair fell to his shoulders. His eyes were the color of wet clay and his fingernails were long and clear. He wore a black bow tie and dress shirt, red suspenders, and a coat with black coattails. A gold pin in the shape of a star shone from his lapel. Fern rubbed her eyes to make sure her rough landing hadn’t caused her to hallucinate. The lanky man extended his left hand. On his wrist he wore a golden watch, polished and shiny. Fern recognized the watch immediately, though she made no motion to shake the man’s hand.

“I am Vlad. Pleased to meet you,” he said. His eyes looked like dark gray clouds with no delineation between pupil and iris. The deep chill in his voice made Fern’s knees buckle.

“Do not be afraid, Fern. I am not going to hurt you.” The man smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth flanked by a pair of magnificent fangs. He was very formal in tone and his speech had a thickness to it. Fern couldn’t place what kind of accent he had; it was unlike any she had heard before.

“That
watch
,” Fern muttered, thinking aloud.

“You recognize it?” Vlad peered at Fern. Fern’s first instinct was to run and get as far away from this man as possible. However, he was twice her size, and she was sure if he wanted to hurt her, there was little she could do to stop it.

“I’ve seen it before,” Fern said, unsure how much to reveal. The man felt oddly familiar to her, though. “You’re a vampire?”

“Yes,” Vlad replied, almost gently. This was the first vampire Fern had met with actual fangs.

“Why are you here?” Fern asked. The dark man’s head was nearly at the level of the top of the blossoming trees.

“I have been searching for you for a long time, Fern.” Vlad’s voice was low like a voice that narrated a movie. “When you arrived at Pirate’s Cove, I knew you were the girl I had been looking for all these years,” he said.

“So that
was
you?” Fern said.

“Me borrowing someone else’s body, yes. I was making my annual visit to the cove. Of course, I tend to raise a lot of suspicion looking the way I do, so I had to change while I was exploring the cove.”

“You sound so different now,” Fern said.

“Unfortunately, if I borrow a body, I also inherit the voice. So I was forced to talk to you in that ridiculous manner.” Vlad gave Fern a good-natured smile.

“You can morph into other people?” Fern felt nervous energy course through her at the thought that the beach bum was actually Vlad—that she had talked to him without knowing it.

“For a short time, yes. I suppose you could describe it that way.”

“But you’re wearing the same watch now,” Fern said. “You changed into all his other clothes.”

“You are very observant for one so young.” Vlad smiled at Fern the way a proud father would. “Well, I always make sure I take my watch off and put it back on after I’ve morphed. It was a gift from my father. It has great sentimental value.”

Fern couldn’t avert her eyes from Vlad, or the real Vlad. Although there was something about him that inspired mistrust, his fangs, although sharp, didn’t seem threatening. He looked like he belonged in a Charlotte Brontë novel.

Fern’s hands were trembling. She didn’t know if Vlad intended to harm her or not. He hadn’t harmed her the first time they met, Fern reasoned. He might have some answers for her.

“Why does everyone think you’re looking for me? Are you looking for me?”

“I knew your mother,” Vlad said intensely.

“My mother?”

“Your true mother. Phoebe Merriam.”

Fern was speechless.

“Fern,” Vlad said, “there are certain things you must know.”

“Who are you?”

“That is unimportant—it is who
you
are that I am concerned with.”

“Well, who am I, then?”

“This,” Vlad said, opening up his coat and taking something from his breast pocket, “is the best clue I have to who you are.”

He held a piece of paper out in front of Fern. It was a simple drawing of a rock within a cave. The rock was black, like obsidian, and appeared to be about the size of an ostrich egg. The cave was shaded with brown pencil. It was an exact replica of the drawing she had seen in the disappearing chamber at Pirate’s Cove.

“What you are looking at is the Omphalos Oracle,” Vlad said, pointing to the center of the sketch, right at the rock. “Also known as Rhea’s Rock.” Vlad placed the paper in Fern’s hand. She took it. “The true extent of its powers have never been tested, but it is believed to be the most powerful oracle in all the world.” His words and tone were dramatic.