Contents 11 страница. started to tell her about the effectiveness of the Post-it Note amulets, but she was

started to tell her about the effectiveness of the Post-it Note amulets, but she was

already calling, “Tyrone! Come over here and you boys bury this poor animal. Then

you be ready to move Mrs. Honeycutt’s things into the van. Jayneela, you do what

your brother says. I’m going in for a little talk with Mrs. Honeycutt right now.”

She didn’t raise her voice much. She didn’t need to. The Tyre-minator was

obeying, backing up to Matt, watching the last of the creeping children that Matt’s

explosion hadn’t scattered.

He’s quick, Matt realized. Quicker than me. It’s like a game. As long as you

watch them they can’t move.

They took turns being the watcher and handling the shovel. The earth here was

hard as rock, heavy with weeds. But somehow they got a hole dug and the work

helped them mentally. They buried Toby, and Matt walked around like some footdragging

monster, trying to get the vomit off his shoes in the grass.

Suddenly beside them there was the noise of a door banging open and Matt ran,

ran to his mother, who was trying to heft a huge suitcase, much too heavy for her,

through the door.

Matt took it from her and felt himself encompassed in her hug even though she

had to stand on tip-toes to do it. “Matt, I can’t just leave you—”

“He’ll be one of those to get the town out of this mess,” Dr. Alpert said, overriding

her. “He’ll clean it up. Now we’ve got to get out so we don’t drag him down. Matt,

just so you know, I heard that the McCulloughs are getting out too. Mr. and Mrs.

Sulez don’t seem to be going yet, and neither do the Gilbert-Maxwells.” She said

the last two words with a distinct emphasis.

The Gilbert-Maxwells were Elena’s aunt Judith, her husband Robert Maxwell, and

Elena’s little sister, Margaret. There was no real reason to mention them. But Matt

knew why Dr. Alpert had. She remembered seeing Elena when this whole mess

had started. Despite Elena’s purification of the woods where Dr. Alpert had been

standing, the doctor remembered.

“I’ll tell—Meredith,” Matt said, and looking her in the eyes, he nodded a little, as if

to say, I’ll tell Elena, too.

“Anything else to carry?” Tyrone asked. He was encumbered by a canary

birdcage, with the little bird frantically beating its wings inside, and a smaller

suitcase.

“No, but how can I thank you?” Mrs. Honeycutt said.

“Thanks later—now, everybody in,” said Dr. Alpert. “We are taking off. ”

Matt hugged his mother and gave her a little push toward the SUV, which had

already swallowed the birdcage and small suitcase.

“Good-bye!” everyone was yelling. Tyrone stuck his head out of the window to

say, “Call me whenever! I want to help!”

And then they were gone.

Matt could hardly believe it was over; it had happened so fast. He ran inside the

open door of his house and got his other pair of running shoes, just in case Mrs.

Flowers couldn’t fix the smell of the ones he was wearing.

When he burst out of the house again he had to blink. Instead of the white SUV

there was a different white car parked beside his. He looked around the block. No

children. None at all.

And the birdsong had come back.

There were two men in the car. One was white and one was black and they both

were around the age to be concerned fathers. Anyway they had him cut off, the

way their car was parked. He had no choice but to go up to them. As soon as he

did they both got out of the car, watching him as if he was as dangerous as a

kitsune.

The instant they did that, Matt knew he’d made a mistake.

“You’re Matthew Jeffrey Honeycutt?”

Matt had no choice but to nod.

“Say yes or no, please.”

“Yes.” Matt could see inside the white car now. It was a stealth police car, one of

those with lights inside, all ready to be fixed outside if the officers wanted to let you

in on the secret.

“Matthew Jeffrey Honeycutt, you are under arrest for assault and battery upon

Caroline Beula Forbes. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up this right,

anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—”

“Didn’t you see those kids?” Matt was shouting. “You had to have seen one or

two of them! Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Lean over and put your hands on the front of the car.”

“It’s going to destroy the whole town! You’re helping it!”

“Do you understand these rights—?”

“Do you understand what is going on in Fell’s Church?”

There was a pause this time. And then, in perfectly even tones, one of the two

said, “We’re from Ridgemont.”

B onnie decided, with seconds precious and seeming to stretch for hours, that what

was going to happen was going to happen no matter what she did. And there was a

matter of pride here. She knew that there were people who would laugh at that, but

it was true. Despite Elena’s new Powers, Bonnie was the one most used to

confronting stark darkness. She was somehow alive after all that. And very soon

she would not be. And the way she went was the only thing left up to her.

She heard a glissando of screams and then she heard them come to a halt.

Well, that was all she could do for the moment. Stop screaming. The choice was

made. Bonnie would go out, unbroken, defiant—and silent.

The moment she stopped shrieking Shinichi made a gesture and the ogre who

had hold of her stopped carrying her to the window.

She’d known it. He was a bully. Bullies wanted to hear that things hurt or that

people were miserable. The ogre lifted her so her face was level with Shinichi’s.

“Excited about your one-way trip?”

“Thrilled,” she said expressionlessly. Hey, she thought, I’m not so bad at this

brave thing. But everything inside her was shaking at double time in order to make

up for her stony face.

Shinichi opened the window. “Still thrilled?”

Now that had done something, opening the window had. She was not going to be

smashed against glass until she broke it with her face and went sailing through the

jagged bits. There wasn’t going to be pain until she hit the ground and nobody would

know about that, not even her.

Just do it and get it over with, Bonnie thought. The warm breeze from the window

told her that this—place—this slave-selling place—where customers were allowed

to sift through the slaves until they found just the right one—was too highly airconditioned.

I’ll be warm, even if it’s just for a second or so, she thought.

When a door near them banged, Bonnie nearly jumped out of the ogre’s arms,

and when the door to their own room banged open, she nearly jumped through her

own skin.

You see? Something surged wildly through her. I’m saved! It only took a little of

that brave stuff and now…

But it was Shinichi’s sister, Misao. Misao, looking gravely ill, her skin ashen,

holding on to the door to hold herself up. The only thing about her that wasn’t

grayed-out was her brilliant black hair, tipped with scarlet at the ends, just like

Shinichi’s.

“Wait!” she said to Shinichi. “You never even asked about—”

“You think a little airhead like her would know? But have it your own way.” Shinichi

seated Misao on the couch, rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. “I’ll ask.”

So she was the one inside the two-way mirror room, Bonnie thought. She looks

really bad. Like dying bad.

“What happened to my sister’s star ball?” Shinichi demanded and then Bonnie

saw how this thing formed a circle, with a beginning and an ending, and how,

understanding this, she could die with true dignity.

“It was my fault,” she said, with a faint smile as she remembered. “Or half of it

was. Sage opened it up the first time to open the Gate back on Earth. And then…”

She told them the story, as if it were one she’d never heard before, putting an

emphasis on how it was she who had given Damon the clues to find Misao’s star

ball, and it was Damon who then had used it to enter the top level of the Dark

Dimensions.

“It’s all a circle,” she explained. “What you do comes back to you. ” Then despite

herself, she started to giggle.

In two strides, Shinichi was across the room and slapping her. She didn’t know

how many times he did it. The first was enough to make her gasp and stop her

giggling. Afterward her cheeks felt as swollen as if she had a very painful case of

the mumps, and her nose was bleeding.

She kept trying to wipe it on her shoulder, but it wouldn’t stop. At last Misao said,

“Ugh. Unfasten her hands and give her a towel or something.”

The ogres moved just as if Shinichi had given the order.

Shinichi himself was now sitting beside Misao, talking to her softly, as if he were

speaking to a baby or a beloved pet. But Misao’s eyes, with their tiny flicker of fire

in them, were clear and adult as she looked at Bonnie.

“Where is my star ball now?” she asked with dreadful gray intensity.

Bonnie, who was wiping her nose, feeling the bliss of not being handcuffed

behind her back, wondered why she wasn’t even trying to think of a lie. Like, let me

free and I’ll lead you to it. Then she remembered Shinichi and his damn kitsune

telepathy.

“How could I know?” she pointed out logically. “I was just trying to pull Damon

away from the Gate when we both fell in. It didn’t come with us. As far as I know, it

got kicked in the dust and all the liquid spilled out.”

Shinichi got up to hurt her again, but she was only telling the truth. Misao was

already speaking. “We know that didn’t happen because I am”—she had to pause

to breathe—“still alive.”

She turned her ashen, sunken face toward Shinichi and said, “You’re right. She’s

useless now, and full of information she shouldn’t have. Throw her out.”

An ogre picked Bonnie up, towel and all. Shinichi came around the other side.

“Do you see what you’ve done to my sister? Do you see?”

No more time now. Just a second to wonder if she really was going to be brave

or not. But what should she say to show she was brave? She opened her mouth,

honestly not sure whether what was coming out was a scream or words.

“She’s going to look even worse when my friends are done with her,” she said,

and saw in Misao’s eyes that she’d hit her target.

“Throw her out,” Shinichi shouted, livid with fury.

And the ogre threw her out the window.

Meredith was sitting with her parents, trying to figure out what was wrong. She had

finished her errands in record time: getting enlarged versions of the writing on the

front of the jars made; calling the Saitou family to find that they would all be home at

noon. Then she had examined and numbered the individual blow-ups of each

character in the pictures that Alaric had sent.

The Saitous had been…tense. Meredith hadn’t been surprised since Isobel had

been a prime, if entirely innocent, carrier of the kitsune’s deadly possessing

malach. One of the worst casualties was Isobel’s own steady boyfriend, Jim Bryce,

who had gotten the malach from Caroline and spread it to Isobel without knowing

what he was doing. He himself had been possessed by Shinichi’s malach and had

demonstrated all the hideous symptoms of Lesch-Nyhan Syndrome, eating away at

his own lips and fingers, while poor Isobel had used dirty needles—sometimes the

size of a child’s knitting needles—to pierce herself in more than thirty places,

besides forking her tongue with scissors.

Isobel was out of the hospital and on the mend now. Still, Meredith was

bewildered. She had gotten approval of the cards with enlarged, individual

characters off the jars from the older Saitous—Obaasan (Isobel’s grandmother)

and Mrs. Saitou (Isobel’s mother)—not without a good deal of argument in

Japanese over each character. She was just getting into her car when Isobel had

come running out of the house with a bag of Post-it Notes in her hand. “Mother did

them—in case you needed,” she gasped in her new, soft, slurring voice. And

Meredith had taken the notes from her gratefully, murmuring something awkward

about repayment.

“No, but—but may I have a look at the blow-ups?” Isobel had panted. Why was

she panting so hard? Meredith wondered. Even if she’d run from the top floor all the

way following Meredith—that wouldn’t account for it. Then Meredith remembered:

Bonnie had said Isobel had a “jumpy” heart.

“You see,” Isobel said with what looked like shame and a plea for understanding,

“Obaasan is really almost blind now—and it’s been so long since Mother was in

school…but I take Japanese classes right now. ”

Meredith was touched. Obviously, Isobel had felt it bad manners to contradict an

adult when they were in earshot. But there, sitting in the car, Isobel had gone

through every card with a blown-up character, writing a similar, but definitely

different character on the back. It had taken twenty minutes. Meredith had been

awed. “But how do you remember them all? How do you ever write to each other?”

she had blurted, after seeing the complicated symbols that differed only by a few

lines.

“With dictionaries,” Isobel had said, and had for the first time given a little laugh.

“No, I’m serious—to write a very proper letter, say, don’t you use Thesaurus and

Spell Check and—”

“I need those to write anything!” Meredith had laughed.

It had been a nice moment, both of them smiling together, relaxed. No problems.

Isobel’s heart had seemed just fine.

Then Isobel had hurried away and when she was gone Meredith was left staring

at a round circle of moisture on the passenger seat. A tear. But why should Isobel

be crying?

Because it reminded her of the malach, or of Jim?

Because it would take several plastic surgeries before her ears would have flesh

on them again?

No answer that Meredith could think of made sense. And she had to hurry to get

to her own home—late.

It was only then that Meredith was stricken by a fact. The Saitou family knew that

Meredith, Matt, and Bonnie were friends. But none of them had asked about either

Bonnie or Matt.

Strange.

If she had only known how much stranger her visit with her own family would be…

M eredith usually found her parents funny and silly and dear. They were solemn

about all the wrong things like, “Make sure, honey, that you really get to know Alaric

—before—before—” Meredith had no doubts about Alaric at all, but he was

another of those silly, dear, gallant people, who talked all around things without

getting to the point.

Today, she was surprised to see that there was no cluster of cars around the

ancestral home. Maybe people had to stay home to fight it out with their own

children. She locked the Acura, conscious of the precious contents given by Isobel,

and rang the doorbell. Her parents believed in chain locks.

Janet, the housekeeper, looked happy to see her but nervous. Aha, Meredith

thought, they have discovered that their dutiful only child has ransacked the attic.

Maybe they want the stave back. Maybe I should have left it back at the

boardinghouse.

But she only realized that things were truly serious when she came into the family

room and saw the big La-Z-Boy deluxe lounging chair, her father’s throne: empty.

Her father was sitting on the couch, holding her mother, who was sobbing.

She had brought the stave with her, and when her mother saw it, she broke into a

fresh burst of tears.

“Look,” Meredith said, “this doesn’t have to be so tragic. I’ve got a pretty good

idea of what happened. If you want to tell me about how Grandma and I really got

hurt, that’s your business. But if I was…contaminated in some way…”

She stopped. She could hardly believe it. Her father was holding out an arm to

her, as if the somewhat rank condition of her clothes didn’t matter. She went to him

slowly, uncomfortably, and let him hug her regardless of his Armani suit. Her

mother had a glass with a few sips left of what looked like Coke in front of her, but

Meredith would bet it wasn’t all Coke.

“We’d hoped that this was a place of peace,” her father orated. Every sentence

her father spoke was an oration. You got used to it. “We never dreamed…” And

then he stopped. Meredith was stunned. Her father didn’t stop in the middle of an

oration. He didn’t pause. And he certainly didn’t cry.

“Dad! Daddy! What is it? Have kids been around here, crazy kids? Did they hurt

somebody?”

“We have to tell you the whole story from that time long ago,” her father…said.

He spoke with such despair that it wasn’t anything like an oration. “When you

were…all attacked.”

“By the vampire. Or Grandfather. Or do you know?”

Long pause. Then her mother drained the contents of her glass and called,

“Janet, another one, please.”

“Now, Gabriella—” her father said, chiding.

“’Nando—I can’t bear this. The thought that mi hija inocente… ”

Meredith said, “Look, I think I can make this easier for you. I already know…well,

first, that I had a twin brother.”

Her parents looked horrified. They clung together, gasping. “Who told you?” her

father demanded. “At that boardinghouse, who could know—?”

Calming down time. “No, no. Dad, I found out—well, Grandpa talked to me.” That

was true enough. He had. Just not about her brother. “Anyway, that was how I got

the stave. But the vampire that hurt us is dead. He was the serial killer, the one who

killed Vickie and Sue. His name was Klaus.”

“You thought that there was only one vampire?” her mother got out. She

pronounced the word the Hispanic way, which Meredith always found more scary.

Vahm-peer.

The universe seemed to start moving slowly around Meredith.

“That’s just a guess,” her father said. “We don’t really know that there was more

than the very strong one.”

“But you know about Klaus—how?”

“We saw him. He was the strong one. He killed the security guards at the gate

with one blow each. We moved to a new town. We hoped you would never have to

know you had a brother.” Her father brushed his eyes. “Your grandfather spoke to

us, right after the attack. But the next day…nothing. He couldn’t talk at all.”

Her mother put her face in her hands. She only lifted it to call, “Janet! Another,

por favor!”

“Right away, ma’am.” Meredith looked to the housekeeper’s blue eyes for the

solution to this mystery and found nothing—sympathy, but no help. Janet walked

away with the empty glass, blond French braid receding.

Meredith turned back to her parents, so dark of eye and hair, so olive of skin

color. They were huddling together again, eyes on her.

“Mom, Dad, I know that this is really hard. But I’m going after the kind of people

who hurt Grandpa, and Grandma, and my brother. It’s dangerous, but I have to do

it.” She dropped into a Taekwondo stance. “I mean you did have me trained.”

“But against your own family? You could do that?” her mother cried.

Meredith sat down. She had reached the end of the memories that she and

Stefan had found. “So Klaus didn’t kill him like Grandmother. He took my brother

with him.”

“Cristian,” wailed her mother. “He was just un bebé. Three years old! That was

when we found the two of you…and the blood…oh, the blood…”

Her father got up, not to orate, but to put his hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “We

thought it would be easier not to tell you—that you wouldn’t have any memories of

what was happening when we came in. And you don’t, do you?”

Meredith’s eyes were filling with tears. She looked to her mother, trying to silently

tell her she couldn’t understand this.

“He was drinking my blood?” she guessed. “Klaus?”

“No!” cried her father as her mother whispered prayers.

“He was drinking Cristian’s, then.” Meredith was kneeling on the floor now, trying

to look up into the face of her mother.

“No!” cried her father again. He choked.

“La sangre!” gasped her mother, covering her eyes. “The blood!”

“Querida—” her father sobbed, and went to her.

“Dad!” Meredith went after him and shook his arm. “You’ve ruled out all the

possibilities! I don’t understand! Who was drinking blood?”

“You! You!” her mother almost screamed. “From your own brother! Oh, el

aterrorizar!”

“Gabriella!” moaned her father.

Meredith’s mother subsided into weeping.

Meredith’s head was whirling. “I’m not a vampire! I hunt vampires and kill them!”

“ He said,” her father whispered hoarsely: “‘Just see she gets a tablespoon a

week. If you want her to live, that is. Try a blood pudding.’ He was laughing.”

Meredith didn’t need to ask if they had obeyed. At her house, they had blood

sausage or pudding at least once a week. She had grown up with it. It was nothing

special.

“Why?” she whispered hoarsely now. “Why didn’t he kill me?”

“I don’t know! We still don’t know! That man with his front all dripping with blood—

your blood, your brother’s blood, we didn’t know! And then at the last minute he

grabbed for the two of you but you bit his hand to the bone,” her father said.

“He laughed—laughed!—with your teeth clamped in him and your little hands

pushing him away, and said, ‘I’ll just leave you this one, then, and you can worry

about what she will turn out to be. The boy I’m taking with me.’ And then suddenly I

seemed to come out of a spell, for I was reaching for you again, ready to fight him

for both of you. But I couldn’t! Once I had you, I couldn’t move another inch. And he

left the house still laughing—and took your brother, Cristian, with him.”

Meredith thought. No wonder they didn’t want to hold any kind of celebration on

the anniversaries of that day. Her grandmother dead, her grandfather going crazy,

her brother lost, and herself—what? No wonder they celebrated her birthday a

week early.

Meredith tried to stay calm. The world was falling to pieces around her but she

had to stay calm. Staying calm had kept her alive all her life. Without even having to

count, she was breathing out deep, and in through her nostrils, and out through her

mouth. Deep, deep, cleansing breaths. Soothing peace throughout her body. Only

part of her was hearing her mother:

“We came home early that night because I had a headache—”

“Sh, querida —” her father was beginning.

“We got home early,” her mother keened. “ O Virgen Bendecida, what would we

have found if we had been late? We would have lost you, too! My baby! My baby

with blood on her mouth—”

“But we got home early enough to save her,” Meredith’s father said huskily, as if

trying to wake her mother from a spell.

“Ah, g racias, Princesa Divina, Vigen pura y impoluto …” Her mother couldn’t

seem to stop crying.

“Daddy,” Meredith said urgently, aching for her mother but desperately needing

information. “Have you ever seen him again? Or heard about him? My brother,

Cristian?”

“Yes,” her father said. “Oh, yes, we have seen something.”

Her mother gasped. “’Nando, no!”

“She has to learn the truth sometime,” her father said. He rummaged among

some cardboard file folders on the desk. “Look!” he said to Meredith. “Look at

this.”

Meredith stared in utter disbelief.

In the Dark Dimension Bonnie shut her eyes. There was a lot of wind at the top of a

tall building’s window. That was all her mind had a thought for when she was out of

the window and then back into it and the ogre was laughing and Shinichi’s terrible

voice saying, “You don’t really think we’d let you go without questioning you

thoroughly?”

Bonnie heard the words without them making sense, and then suddenly they did.

Her captors were going to hurt her. They were going to torture her. They were

going to take her bravery away.

She thought she screamed something at him. All she knew, though, was that

there was a soft explosion of heat behind her, and then— unbelievably —all

dressed up in a cloak with badges that made him look like some kind of military

prince, there was Damon.

Damon.

He was so late she’d long ago given up on him. But now he was flashing a thereand-

gone brilliant smile at Shinichi, who was staring as if he’d been stricken dumb.

And now Damon was saying, “I’m afraid Ms. McCullough has another

engagement at that moment. But I will be back to kick your ass— immediately.

Move from this room and I’ll kill you all, slowly. Thank you for your time and

consideration.”

And before anyone could even recover from their first shock at his arrival, he

and Bonnie were blasting off through the windows. He went, not out of the building

backward as if retreating, but straight ahead forward, one hand in front of him,

wrapping them both in a black but ethereal bundle of Power. They shattered the

two-way mirror in Bonnie’s room and were almost all the way through to the next

room before Bonnie’s mind tagged the first “empty.” Then they were crashing

through an elaborate videoset-window—made to let people think they had a view of

the outdoors, and flying over someone lying on a bed. Then…it was just a series of

crashes, as far as Bonnie was concerned. She barely got a glimpse of what was

going on in each room. Finally…

The crashing stopped. This left Bonnie holding on to Damon koala-style—she

wasn’t stupid—and they were very, very high in the air. And mobilizing in front of

them, and off to the sides, and as far as Bonnie could see, were women who were

also flying, but in little machines that looked like a combination of a motorcycle and

a Jet Ski. No wheels, of course. The machines were all gold, which was also the

color of each driver’s hair.

So the first word Bonnie gasped to her rescuer, after he had blasted a tunnel

through the large slave-owner’s building to save her, was, “Guardians?”

“Indispensable, considering the fact that I didn’t have the first idea where the bad

guys might have taken you and I suspected that there might be a time limit. This

was actually the very last of the slave-sellers we were due to check. We finally…

lucked out.” For someone who had lucked out, he sounded a little strange.

Almost…choked up.

Water was on Bonnie’s cheeks but it was being flicked away too fast for her to

wipe it. Damon was holding her so that she couldn’t see his face, and he was

holding her very, very tightly.

It really was Damon. He had called out the cavalry and, despite the city-wide

mind-gridlock, he had found her.

“They hurt you, didn’t they, little redbird? I saw…I saw your face,” Damon said in

his new choked-up voice. Bonnie didn’t know what to say. But suddenly she didn’t

mind how hard he squeezed her. She even found herself squeezing back.

Suddenly, to her shock, Damon broke her koala-grip and pulled her up and

kissed her on the lips very gently. “Little redbird! I’m going to go now, and make

them pay for what they did to you.”

Bonnie heard herself say, “No, don’t.”

“No?” Damon repeated, bewildered.

“No,” Bonnie said. She needed Damon with her. She didn’t care what happened

to Shinichi. There was a sweetness unfolding inside her, but there was also a

rushing in her head. It really was a pity, but in a few moments she would be

unconscious.

Meanwhile, she had three thoughts in mind and all of them were clear. What she

was afraid of was that they would be less clear later, after she had fainted. “Do you