“Scout’s a good name, too,” Blanca said.
Jenny nodded in agreement, though neither young woman appeared to understand Harper’s reference. Did no one readTo Kill a Mockingbirdin school anymore?
“Okay, um, Professor?” Blanca had a way of ending every sentence as if it were a question. “Can Jenny and I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“We were thinking you might be able to help us?”
“Is this about the midterm? It’ll be a take-home essay—”
“No, it’s not about that.” The young women exchanged another look. Students streamed past them, headed to class or to the cafeteria, the usual hustle and bustle of college corridors.
“Okay. What’s up?”
“It’s about vampires? Here in the school, sort of?”
Just then a laboratory science professor, Dr. Naomi Ruger, clacked by, her fashionable high heels rapping loudly on the Mexican Saltillo tile floor. She nodded coolly at Harper, her perfectly arched eyebrows raised. Naomi made it no secret that she was not a fan of Monterey College’s only history professor, still less Harper’s subject matter. If she had overheard Blanca, no doubt the faculty club would soon be abuzz withtales of Harper Grae teaching the students about vampires.Wouldn’t be the first time.
Harper did her best to ignore Naomi and gave the students her full attention. “Vampires?”
“Maybe? I mean…” said Jenny.
“Probably not,” added Blanca. “But we saw this old box that looks a lot like a vampire-killing kit—”
“It really does,” said Jenny with a vigorous nod. “I mean, that’s the first thing I thought of, too.”
“And there are weird symbols on it. Like you were saying they used to do when they buried vampires.”
“Hold on,” said Harper, frustration washing over her. Blanca and Jenny were bright, and yet apparently hadn’t grasped the meaning of what she had said five minutes ago: that vampires were not real but were a way people dealt with a fear of the unknown. “You do realize that while people used to believe in vampires out of ignorance, we now understand that they did not and do not exist, right? Just like ghosts don’t exist. They’re cultural constructions that allowed those in the past to explain the odd or unintelligible…”
Harper’s mind flashed back to the silhouette in the Perles Mansion window. Clearly it had not been Delilah Mason, but neither Tariq nor the police had found a soul inside the home.
So who—or what—had she seen? Someone, or something, had stood at that window last night.
Jenny and Blanca stared at her, wide-eyed. This was Harper’s first year at Monterey College, and she was determined to do well. Being popular with her students might not be as important to the tenure committee as publishing her research, but being anunpopular professor would be. After the gut punch of being turned down for tenure at her last university, she was determined not to let it happen again. At the age offorty, this position was likely her last chance for an academic career.
She couldn’t mess this up. Shewouldn’tmess this up. Besides, her curiosity was piqued.
“All right, you’ve got my attention. Where is this strange box you’re talking about?”
“In the abandoned barracks,” said Jenny.
“The old military housing?” asked Harper. “I thought that area was off-limits.”
“I mean, it is? Sort of? It’s super easy to get into, though,” said Blanca. “It’s not far.”
“And there aren’t even any ‘No Trespassing’ signs,” added Jenny.
“Seriously, you two, I was told that some of the old military areas are not only contaminated with toxic substances but might have unexploded ordnance. It could be dangerous.”
Blanca waved off her concerns. “Not this area—these are some of the old barracks, where they used to house soldiers. The unexploded bombs or whatever are out in the old testing grounds. That’s, like, miles away. I think. It’s fenced off, probably.”
“People go to the barracks all the time, and no one’s blown up yet,” added Jenny.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” said Harper. “Though ‘not blown up yet’ is a pretty low bar, don’t you think?”
They gave her tentative smiles, as though unsure whether or not she was kidding.
