Vampire High Sophomore Year

23



I had a crazy dream. I was walking around in New Sodom, and it was now, but it was also then, and it looked like I imagined New Sodom must have looked, with log houses made with overhangs, and muddy streets, and a long rickety bridge leading to Crossfield. So I walked on, and started to smell smoke. I wondered what was burning, but I couldn’t see any flames. There was just the smell. I followed it, and came to one of the two-story cabins. The invisible smoke was coming from there. I figured there might be someone inside who needed to be rescued, so I ran to the front door and pushed it open.

Inside were Ileana, Justin, Gregor, Turk, and pretty much everybody else I knew. They were all sitting around a woman in old-fashioned clothes who had to be Mercy Warrener. She was typing away on a laptop, and when I came in, she waved.

“I got your message,” she said. “I’m CCing everyone.”

I wanted to say, “But don’t you smell the fire?” but I couldn’t. I just watched Mercy Warrener typing and everyone else smiling at us, while the smell of the smoke got stronger and stronger.

Then there was a rush of heat, the roof started to crack, and I looked up. Flames were spreading across the ceiling, reaching down for us.

“Everybody out!” I shouted.

And I woke up.

I just lay there trembling for a while. Then I reached over and turned on my light.

Morning was starting to come into the sky. I could hear Mom and Dad getting up.

I was too tired to move, but I did it anyway. I was going to go to school today, just to see what was happening. I staggered to the bathroom and ran the shower over me until my heart started beating and my eyes were open. I felt a lot better afterward, and I got dressed and went down to breakfast.

Mom and Dad were sitting closer together than usual. They kept touching each other, and Mom put her hand on my arm every couple of minutes.

“Cody, do you really think you should go to school today?” Dad asked.

“Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen,” I said. “And I feel sort of okay.”

“I’d better check on Turk,” Mom said, and went to invade the attic.

She was back in one minute.

“Turk’s gone,” she said.

Turk had taken her clothes, her sleeping bag, and her car. She’d left a note, and her inflatable Scream.

The note was for me.

Hey, Cuz,

This scene is getting too bogus. I’m out of here. Thanks for trying. You were almost human.

Always Leave First,

Turk

PS Say so long to Bat Boy for me.





When I showed it to Mom and Dad, Mom started to cry.

“How could we not have heard her leave?” she said between sobs. “That ladder makes a huge thump when you drop it. And you can hear her car two blocks away. We should have woken up and stopped her.”

“I don’t think she used the ladder,” I said. “I think she went out the window and climbed down the oak in the front yard. And if she was worried about the car waking us up, she could just have pushed it to the end of the street before she started it.”

“Anyway, we couldn’t have stopped her, short of physical force,” Dad said.

“It was physical force that drove her away,” Mom said. “Damn them all.”

But Mom was wrong. Turk hadn’t left because of what had happened to us in Squibnocket, or because of what was going on now. She was too tough for that. She’d left because it looked like the center was going to happen after all. And because Gregor loved her and she loved him. None of that went with her misunderstood artist pose. So she’d driven off, and left me tied up in the tree house again. I wanted to kill her.

“We can’t even file a missing persons report for twenty-four hours,” Dad was saying. “By that time, she could be a thousand miles from here in any direction. I know a private detective who does good work. He can probably track her down. That way, we can keep tabs on her, at least. I don’t know about bringing her back. She’s sixteen. There are states where she could declare herself an emancipated minor. It’s not like we hold a lot of high cards.”

“I’m not sure she should come back,” Mom said.

I left the room. Right then, the last thing I wanted was to know where Turk was. I got ready for school, and just before I left the house I stuck Turk’s note in my pocket. I was sure to see Gregor, and when I did, I didn’t want to spend a lot of time answering questions.

Since I didn’t have Turk to take me to school, I waited for the limo. My ride to Vlad was even more luxurious than usual. The car was empty except for me.

When I got to school, the parking lot was almost empty. The campus seemed almost deserted. There seemed to be a knot of people coming and going around the student center, so I went that way.

There was a burned-out oak fire beside the entrance, and an elaborate red, purple, and gold banner flying over the door. The design looked ancient, medieval, maybe. I couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed to be a bloodred dragon outlined in gold.

Inside, Gregor had turned the place into a command post and was running his forces from it. It wasn’t just kids standing around talking in small groups and pointing at laptop screens. There were adults there, dangerous-looking Burgundian jenti who seemed to be waiting for orders. And they were all wearing swords. Some of them were carrying crossbows.

Clearly, Mrs. Antonescu’s meeting with the Mercians hadn’t gone well.

“Duke Gregor is busy,” Ilie said as I came in the door.

“My old buddy,” I said. “I always knew he’d make good.”

“It is his war rank,” Ilie said stiffly. “Among us, dukes assume their titles only in times like these.”

“Don’t you have any grown-ups you could take orders from?” I asked.

“Gregor’s father is in Europe,” Ilie said. “Gregor is the next in the chain of command.”

“Well, congratulations on conquering the student center,” I said. “What’s your next move, an attack on the library?”

“The duke will secure a base of operations,” Ilie said. “Then we will advance as directed. You should go now. You are not one of us.”

“Right. When you get a chance, give this to Duke Gregor,” I said, handing Ilie the note, and I left.

I went toward the classics building across the empty campus. Vlad had the feel of a Crossfield mill. Something was dying.

“Elliot, wait!” a voice behind me called.

I turned and saw Gregor walking toward me with quick steps. He had the note in his hand.

“What does bogus mean in this context?” he said, catching up to me. “I know the word, but it does not seem to fit.”

“For God’s sake, Gregor,” I said. “All it means is that Turk’s taken off the way she always does. Her note’s an excuse, not an explanation. Deal with it.”

“Deal with it? I have nothing to deal with,” Gregor said. He crumpled up the note and threw it away. “For the first time, Cody Elliot, I feel sorry for you, having such a person in your family.”

“Thanks, Gregor, old pal. That means a lot,” I said.

Three jenti suddenly swooped out of a cloud and flew low over our heads. Then they angled away toward Crossfield.

“Gregor,” I said, “tell a dumb gadje what’s really going on.”

“I tell you again, I do not know everything that is going on,” Gregor said. “I know only that it is so important to the Mercians that the stupid arts center not open that they are prepared to risk everything in New Sodom to prevent it from doing so. That makes it precious to the Burgundians. To me and my men, at least. So the center will open on Halloween. Then we will see what happens. But I think what happens will be war.”

“A war over Turk’s junk?” I said. “Anyway, what do you mean, war? You guys are gangs, not armies.”

“Jenti do not fight gadje style,” Gregor said. “We are quicker and subtler. And very fierce. War is what it is.”

“Turk wouldn’t like you using her stuff this way,” I said.

“Turk is gone,” Gregor said. “And the Burgundians did not choose this fight.”

I went to my first class and found I was the only person there. Even the teacher was gone, and there was no substitute. It was like that all over Vlad. Of the teachers I knew, only Ms. Vukovitch, Mr. Shadwell, and Mr. Gibbon were at work. They all looked grim, and none of them had much to say to me.

I hung around until the end of the day, then found that the limo service had stopped running. Just stopped. So I had to drag my beaten-up self home, which took a long time.

Which gave me a lot of time to think.

I didn’t want to quit. As far as I could see, quitting would only make everything worse. Quitting would be admitting that I was wrong when I wasn’t. And even if, after I quit, the jenti stopped giving me the silent treatment, even if Justin and Ileana came to make up, they would still be wrong, and I would still be right, and I would have to act like that wasn’t true. But without other people, it was a stupid idea. I wasn’t an artist. I didn’t need an arts center any more than I needed a cruise ship.

Turk might have been a pain, but at least she’d wanted the center. Now no one did. No one but me, and I’d wanted it for other people. For Mercy Warrener, and Ileana, and, though I hated to admit it, I’d wanted it for Turk.

I kept thinking about Turk’s art sitting in the cold dark of the mill, maybe for years, and the wigwam lost there, lost and useless. Unless it went up in flames as part of some jenti battle.

I finally turned the last corner and started up the street to my house. As I climbed up the steps, the door opened and Mom met me.

“Cody, you have company,” she said in a loud whisper.

“I do?” I said. If it was Ileana, or even Justin—

“Yes,” she said. “And I have no idea who they are.”