***
After school got out for the day, I took a taxi to the International Bank of Man. Today I was going to find out what was in the safety deposit box that spooked Mr. Taylor.
When my turn in line came, I stepped up to the teller.
“Hello ma’am, how can I help you today?”
I placed the key I was given on the counter. “I need to close a safety deposit box today.”
The woman stared at my key for a moment before looking back up. “Please follow me.”
She walked me to a back office, where I waited until she returned with the safety deposit box.
She took my key and opened it. Looking vaguely bored she said, “It appears this was all that was left in the safety deposit box.” She handed me a thin manila envelope. Written on the front was a single name: Gabrielle.
This was what was so urgent?
“If you need some alone time, feel free to stay here. I’ll just be down the hall to finish your paperwork and close the account.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
The teller inclined her head and backed out of the room.
I flipped over the letter and opened it. The sheet of paper I pulled out was already beginning to yellow.
Gabrielle,
If you are reading this then I am dead, and you are in grave danger. At the moment I write this I believe someone in the coven is preparing a political coup, and they appear to be targeting our family and Andre de Leon, the king of the vampires.
However, if you are reading this, then it also means that you survived into adulthood, and that Cecilia did her job and hid you well, something I can only hope for. I suspect that the betrayer, whoever he or she is, will tie up loose ends and attempt to kill you, regardless of whether or not Andre has been dealt with.
Do not believe you are safe simply because a decade has passed. That’s the blink of an eye for a vampire, and we have the ability to hold grudges for centuries. My beautiful daughter, I must pass on this great burden to you—to find my killer before he finds you.
I don’t have much relevant information for you to protect yourself with—only that this vampire is probably someone of high rank.
On the back of this letter I have written Cecilia’s address. Find her. She is one of your greatest allies, and she will give you the answers you seek. Remember, people are almost never who they appear to be.
Lastly, never forget how much I love you. I know what loneliness feels like, and I suspect you now do too. I am more sorry than you can possibly know. I never meant to pass on that particular family trait. You are forever and always in my heart.
Dad
P.S. Speak of this to no one.
I reread the letter, holding onto the only written proof that my father loved me. Wiping away a couple stray tears, I focused on the more critical message. Political coup? That’s what this was about? Why would I ever be a target? Andre I could understand, but me? I was too young and too ignorant to be significant.
Briefly I wondered if I was somehow vampire royalty—my father, after all, had been important—but the thought was too weird to hold onto. However, in general the idea that my lineage needed to be eradicated made sense—political coups often involved killing all members of the pre-existing ruling family. I just wasn’t sure that my lineage was all that important.
Regardless, Andre clearly hadn’t died, so what had happened?
My dad was correct in assuming that someone would try to kill me. However, the man that attacked me seemed to think I was an abomination. His attempt was more like a hate crime. It hardly fit with the motives of someone who wanted to overthrow a leader, and instead appeared to be more similar to the motives behind my mother’s demise.
And Cecilia. The name clicked into place. She had been my nanny, the woman who helped me escape the night of the fire. The thought of seeing her again excited me, but I couldn’t understand why she would be involved in vampire politics.
Now there were too many loose threads. I stared at the letter quizzically, trying to force together puzzle pieces that just weren’t fitting.
I flipped the letter over and read Cecilia’s address:
Cecilia Girari
Via Aldo Rollandi, 34
19010 Manarola, Province of La Spezia, Italy
My father said she had all the answers. I guess I was going to plan a trip to Italy.
Chapter 15
When I got home, Oliver was waiting for me, munching on a stash of chocolates I always kept around.
He stood up, and a dozen little wrappers drifted off his lap and onto the floor. With the movement his skin shimmered, reminding me that he was otherworldly.
“You didn’t tell me you had a hot date!”
I rolled my eyes. “As if it were newsworthy.” I dropped my stuff next to the door and sat down next to Oliver on my bed. “So,” I said, “how was your week? I haven’t seen you for a while.”