chapter 7
Alex took a deep breath. “Vampires are all around the lake,” he said.
They’d gathered in an old study in what was now-nicknamed New Aubrey House. The sound of thumping and hammering echoed through the building. They had passed countless students on the way in, and Alex had been happy to see them carrying chairs and bedding from the trucks that were parked all over the lawn. Otranto had set up a small office, a central nervous system for the house, and was running everything from there.
A sign-up sheet near Otranto’s office door, posted next to a desk already inhabited by his assistant, Mrs. Hostache, informed Alex and his roommates that they would be on duty painting and sweeping the next day.
“The sign-up sheet seems to have a mind of its own,” Paul observed.
So this was the new reality. Alex had only the faintest inkling of what an undertaking it must be, what kind of money had to change hands and what armies of lawyers had to be called in for two schools to merge so quickly. He had the impression, amid the crates and trucks, of Headmaster Otranto stretching to hold a school together with his bare hands. Alex wasn’t sure even Otranto was up to the task. Out of two hundred students they had shed at least twenty-five already.
There was a love seat in the library where Vienna sat shivering, even though Minhi had found a blanket for her. Sid brought in a tray of cups and hot chocolate.
“All of you knew about them?” Vienna asked. She took the chocolate in both hands, absorbing its warmth as she held it under her chin.
Alex indicated Minhi, Paul, and Sid, and said, “All of us? Yes,” he said. “But I’m not sure if anyone else does, among the students.” He looked at the others for help. He wasn’t sure how much to reveal. How far to go—yes, there are vampires, one of those things my father always said didn’t exist, and by the way, they have a giant school under the lake, and while we’re at it, I’ve more or less weaseled my way into an international G.I. Joe organization. . . .
Vienna gestured with her head toward the door, toward the grounds. “Last month, during the kidnapping—I’m sorry to bring it up—”
“No, it’s okay,” said Minhi. That would be Minhi and Paul’s kidnapping by what everyone in the school understood to be terrorists.
“Some of the girls said the terrorists moved fast, very fast.” Vienna’s eyes were searching. “I didn’t see any of it. Were they—were they these things, these vampires?”
“Yes.” Minhi nodded.
“Does the school know?”
Alex shrugged. “I don’t think the school knows,” he said. “Glenarvon, I mean. But we do have a friend in the school.”
“What about LaLaurie?” Minhi asked. “Does your friend have ‘friends’ in our school?”
Our school. That was the other thing people were trying not to talk about. LaLaurie was traditionally a girls’ school. It had its own concerned parents, parents of students whose school hadn’t been nearly burned down, and they needed soothing, too. They were bending over backward to help Glenarvon, and that meant everything about LaLaurie was having to change. There were boys in the cafeteria and boys in the locker rooms and boy clothes and boy aggression. Boy angst, because their school had been almost destroyed.
Alex shook his head. “I’ve never asked.” It hadn’t occurred to him whether there were other Sangsters. Could there be more like him, teachers moonlighting as agents against darkness? That didn’t seem likely. Otranto was “connected,” but he didn’t seem connected to the Polidorium. Ms. Daughtry was kind, and he had a suspicion that Sangster and she might have something going on, but he didn’t take her for a spy. But that was how it worked, right? His head began to spin with paranoia.
Vienna turned to Alex, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it back to him. “The girl knew you. She was looking for you.”
Paul chuckled. “That maniac knows all of us. She was our guard when we were taken.”
Vienna continued, “But she really knew Alex. What did she want with you?”
“Her name is Elle,” Alex said. “And, honestly, I’d tell you if I knew, but I have no idea what she wanted.”
Paul asked, “What did she say?”
“She said the Scholomance wants me dead,” Alex confessed. He decided to gloss over the punishment part. At the dock he had been terrified that Elle was going to tear Vienna’s throat out, scarf and all. He couldn’t handle that; it would have been as if he had lured her down to the dock only to be killed. She would have died because these things seemed to follow him. Already he sensed he was bringing danger to his friends—after all, the school had burned because the Scholomance was out to get Alex. But Elle had shot right past Vienna. She had wanted to impart a message. Whatever the Scholomance had planned, they weren’t about to trip it up by killing a student in public.
But there was definitely something strange going on that Alex couldn’t quite place. Elle had talked as though she were in some kind of disagreement with the Scholomance—whether to kill him or to torture him, apparently. But they had stepped up their attacks on him at the same time that the Scholomance began to prepare for whatever was coming, whatever this Ultravox would bring.
The Scholomance had been around for hundreds—possibly thousands—of years. Dracula himself attended the school, when he first became a vampire, or so said the Polidorium, and so had reported Abraham Van Helsing, Alex’s great-great-great- (that was three greats) grandfather. Alex had seen the Scholomance personally, as had Paul and Minhi when they had been kidnapped as part of an elaborate vampire plan. The Scholomance had plans within plans within plans.
“Elle wanted me,” Alex said. “She didn’t want to hurt you, I think, or . . . or she would have.” Of course, Elle had actually said she wanted to make Alex suffer, and the truth was, making people suffer often involved hurting others. But he didn’t say any of that for now.
Vienna took this in and sipped her chocolate, seeming to relax. “I guess I should say thank you,” she said finally.
Alex became aware that someone was yelling down the hall outside the study. Paul went to the door and looked out.
Alex asked, “What is it?”
“It’s Bill,” Paul said.
Alex stepped past him into the hall, looking down the dim, cobwebby corridor. In the main foyer he saw Bill Merrill, waving a cell phone. “I did try! I did try!”
Otranto said something in a hushed tone, using his hands slowly, palms down, as if to calm the boy. “And we are trying as well.”
“I want answers; this is ridiculous,” Bill said. Abruptly he looked down the hall, catching sight of Alex. He turned instantly and began advancing toward Alex and Paul. “Have you called home?” he shouted at Paul.
Paul seemed confused by the question. “What? Yeah, several times.”
“With your cell phone?”
Paul said slowly, “Yeah, you need to borrow it?”
Bill waved his hand. “Agh. England. You! Did you call home?”
“With his phone, but there wasn’t a problem,” Alex said.
Bill turned back to Otranto, shouting. “You get through. I’m not gonna stand for this.”
“What’s going on?” Alex asked.
“Stay out of this,” Bill said, shooting him a snarling look.
Otranto was leading Bill outside. Alex had a sick, sympathetic feeling in his gut. Bill might be a jerk, but he was just like the rest of them in that he was a student and in theory he had parents somewhere. Every student’s parents were putting pressure on their sons, trying to decide whether to stay or to go. But if Alex was understanding Bill correctly, he hadn’t been able to contact his parents at all. With Steven in the hospital, that sounded like a nightmare.
Alex and Paul reentered the study as a clock in a high tower over the school began to chime, a quarter to eight. Minhi began to gather up the cups.
Alex asked, “What do you want to do now?”
Minhi shrugged. “Uh . . . well, it’s nearly eight. Vienna, are you up for rehearsal?”
“Rehearsal for what?” Alex was puzzled.
Minhi looked at Paul. “You still on?”
“Rehearsal for what?” Alex and Sid said together. Suddenly there was something only half of them were aware of?
Paul looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did I not—it’s . . . it’s a little stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” Minhi frowned.
“It’s a BALL,” Paul said, looking to Alex for sympathy.
“You’re going to a ball?” Alex smiled. “Like a . . . pumpkins-and-carriages-and-tuxedos ball?”
Minhi laughed. “A rehearsal, Alex, I mean, seriously, do you think there’d be a ball tonight and you’d somehow miss that fact? It’s on Friday.”
Alex allowed that that had to be true; he could pretty well ignore most of the goings-on at this new, weirdly merged school, but yeah, if there were a big dance tonight there would at least be . . . streamers. Or something.
Vienna brightened. “This Friday there will be a benefit ball for LaLaurie. It includes a debut of the daughters of governmental ministers here for the InfoTreaty.”
“InfoTreaty?”
Sid looked up. “Oh, yeah. That’s an international treaty to modernize biographical information and make it easier to share.”
Alex said, “How does that translate into a . . . dance?”
Minhi nodded. “There’s an international conference on the treaty in Geneva this month, attended by government officials from around the world. The Ball is a black-tie event timed to coincide with that. Of course the talk now is that it’ll also be used to raise money for the reconstruction of Glenarvon in addition to the LaLaurie endowment, since the schools were founded by the same board.”
Alex was trying to put this together. “A debut of daughters—Minhi, do you have a parent who’s like a government minister?”
“Deputy minister,” Minhi responded.
“Your dad?”
“My mom.”
“And my father,” Vienna piped up.
“Okay, I get it,” Alex said. Really this wasn’t so shocking; Glenarvon and LaLaurie were a couple of the most prestigious boarding schools in the world. “So this is a big deal. Is there a ballroom at LaLaurie?”
“We do have a ballroom,” Vienna said, “so the rehearsals are here. But the actual event . . .”
“It’s going to be on a boat,” Minhi finished excitedly.
“A boat?”
“A big one. On the lake.” She seemed to bounce.
Alex still didn’t get something. “Why do you have to rehearse?”
“Well,” Vienna explained, “you don’t just show up and know how to walk down a flight of stairs and dance.”
“You don’t know how to walk down a flight of stairs?” Alex and Sid folded their arms and looked at their roommate, and Alex said accusingly to him, “How do you figure into this?”
“Immunscorrrr,” Paul muttered.
“What was that, I couldn’t . . .” Alex shook his head, laughing. Minhi raised an eyebrow.
“I’m an escort,” Paul said finally. “Every debutante has an escort.”
“Technically, junior debutantes,” Minhi said. “We don’t make a formal debut; we’re introduced, but the focus will be on the true debs, the older girls.”
True debs. This was a strange new taxonomy. Wow. Minhi and Paul at the ball, that was . . . “Why didn’t you mention this?”
Minhi looked sheepish. “Tonight is the first rehearsal. And we didn’t . . . there wasn’t really an opportunity.”
At once flush with the same tinge of jealousy he had felt before, Alex looked at Minhi. He got it. Slightly serious step, sort of romantic, heck, very romantic. He got it. They hadn’t mentioned it because they were afraid he’d be jealous. Or, let’s face it, because they simply had plans and not everything revolved around Alex Van Helsing.
Alex looked at Vienna. “What about you? Who’s your escort, the prince of Spain?”
Vienna glanced down, saddened. “My escort is in the hospital.”
Ah. Steven Merrill. Alex thought again of Steven, the one casualty of the fire, and determined that he needed to go see how he was doing. He felt responsible. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head honestly. “Jeez, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said.
“We’ll need to find her an escort, Alex,” Minhi said meaningfully.
See how this works? She’s giving you a shot. Go ahead, make up for putting your foot in your mouth at every opportunity.
Alex’s cell phone started buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and read a text that displayed on the screen:
You’re needed. Back gate. 8 P.M.
Alex blinked at the message and he felt an electric flood pulse through his body. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, you guys have—I hope it goes great. I have to study, I’ve completely lost my way in Sangster’s class.” He looked at Paul and Sid.
Minhi understood, but she looked a little saddened. “Remember you don’t have to give us that stuff.”
“Yeah, okay,” Alex said. “It’s Sangster.”
“All right,” Minhi said finally. “We’re rehearsing. Sid? You want to come?”
Sid looked as though he’d been jumped. “Me?”
Alex was rising. He had to head back to the Kingdom of Cots and get his go package and his Bluetooth. “I think Vienna needs an escort.”
“Excuse me, I do have a say in this,” Vienna said, amused. “Sid, would you be my escort for the evening?”
“I have no idea what that—”
“Just come with us and we’ll tell you what to do.”
Alex smiled, but to do so he had to force the ends of his mouth up. He wanted to learn how to walk down a flight of stairs. “Go crazy, Prince.” Alex slapped Sid on the back. “I gotta hustle.”
Vienna looked at Alex. “Oh, Alex—Ah. My grandmother.”
He turned. “Your what?”
“My name is unusual. It’s Austrian. My grandmother was named Vienna,” she said.
Alex felt himself blush despite himself. “Thank you.”