I’m honestly not even sure who to call, though. Does the Department of Homeland Security have a hotline I can pull up on Google? I turn to ask Collin when the bones in the box begin to shift and softly click against each other. Startled, I peer over the edge to see each one in motion, rotating and sliding into new positions. Some of the bones I removed even leap over the sides of the container to join their macabre friends.
Finally, they settle into words:
MEET AT MY HOUSE NOW
DONT CONTACT ANYONE ELSE
HELP ON THE WAY
I stare at the yellowed skeletal fragments for a long moment, not sure what to make of them. I know Ms. Stryker’s home address—it’s in Hunter’s Point—but I’ve never been there.
“Why wouldn’t she want me to contact anyone else?” I ask, glancing at Collin. “Why would she even mention that?”
His eyes flick up to the side for a couple seconds, before he looks back at me and shrugs.
“Haven’t a clue, Alvin. Maybe she’s not sure who we can trust?” He doesn’t speak with his usual chipper confidence. I can’t tell if that’s because he’s skeptical, or if he’s just as shell-shocked from the vampire lair as I am.
But whatever, this is still unequivocally good news, right? In fact, it’s exactly what I need: a real expert, a real hero, swooping in to clean up my mess. I should be clicking my heels, and any hesitation I feel must be because I know, after this, she’ll for sure be done with me. Children are going to get badly hurt because of my incompetence. Because I had the selfish arrogance to think I could handle this on my own without any guidance, any supervision. Whatever else happens, my dream of being a paranormal investigator is over.
But that doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter why she’d want to keep this on the down-low. Ms. Stryker will know what to do. She always knows what to do. And if she were here, she certainly wouldn’t need to explain her reasoning to the foolish intern who got himself in way over his head.
I straighten up from the desk and move toward the door. “She said ‘now.’ So let’s get moving.”
Collin stops me with a gentle touch. “Please just take the first aid kit from the desk. I’ll help you sort thatwound on the way.” When I frown, he adds, “Rafa’s a bit cut up, too.”
And that’s why he’s the Avatar of Knowledge and I’m just a stupid incubus boy—because knowing it might help someone else totally trumps my sulky desire to keep suffering.
I scowl harder and snatch the kit from the drawer. And since I already turned around, I also stash the book in the safe with the bagged demon head before locking the door behind me and joining Rafa in the reception area. (Stryker might want to see the ritual, but if this ancient tome really is what the vamps need, it’s safer here behind the office wards.)
I find Rafa perched on the edge of the couch. His Kevlar duster is off. He’s bent over, staring ahead, meaty forearms resting on his thighs, hands hanging down between. The shotgun rests against the couch next to him.
“Hey,” I say from the doorway to Ms. Stryker’s office.
He glances up at me, haunted.
“I, uh, heard back from my boss. She wants me to meet her at her house. Now. She says help is on the way.”
“That’s good,” he replies, muted. The muscles of his face barely move. Like his arms, his features just droop.
I know I should say something. He just found out his dead dad is not so dead and is instead an evil monster—but I have no idea how to comfort him, because I’ve never had any actual friends. I should have asked Collin for the best way to handle this. He could have told me the right words. But it’s not like I’m going to go back into Stryker’s office to have a private conference with the Avatar, so I sitnext to Rafa, place the kit to my side, and just state the obvious.
“You didn’t know. What had happened to him, I mean.”
He shakes his head, confirming. “I was always told he’d been killed. Both my parents. That the vampires were so savage, there wasn’t anything left for a funeral. When they sent me back East, they said I shouldn’t come back, because it would be too hard, emotionally. That there was nothing for me in San Francisco anymore. But he’s been here all this time… And he sounded…” His words trail off to a whisper.
I finish for him, realizing. “…Like he used to. Like when he was alive.”
Stryker’s told me that some older vampires can keep up the appearance of a person for a short period, like to get themselves dressed and walk down the street with a friendly smile before they grab you. But they’re still essentially animals. You couldn’t have a conversation with one.
But what if that wasn’t the case? And what if it was someone you knew?
“I saw it in his face, Alvin. My father. He’s stillinthere.” His expression is hollow with agony.
“And you think you might be able to reach him?” There’s no skepticism in my voice. If it were somebody I loved who’d gotten turned? I’d want to believe I could get them back, too.
His mouth tightens into a thin line. “Those kids.Littlekids. He locked them up. Fed off them. Hurt them.” He looks over at me. “He was third in the hierarchy of our clan. One of the best Monster Hunters in the country.Yeah, he always wantedmorefor us. And himself. More money, a better house, getting into high society, I guess, but he wasgood… A true hero…”
All of Rafa’s usual stoicism is gone. He’s no longer the coldly lethal Hunter. Right now, he’s just this young guy who wishes he could have a parent who loves him. I might not know anything about being a hero, but that I get.
