The Eternal Tomb (14 page)

“Emalie,” Oliver began, but then watched in shock as she effortlessly ascended all the way to the top floor. Not even a year ago, he'd had to carry her on his back from floor to floor. Now he was trying to keep up, but with his beginner's skill at levitation, he had to stop on each level to refocus and grab the forces again.

On the second level from the top, he cast a cautious look toward Désirée's. The shop was dark.

Emalie was waiting for him by the silent food court. Its chairs were overturned and placed on top of tables. She reached out and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “Slowpoke,” she said playfully, then turned in a whirl of dress, and started off.

“These stores kinda grossed me out,” she said casually as they crossed the top level. She paused to look over leather-clad mannequins in one shop window. “But now I get it. Who'd want to dress like a boring old human when you could feel things like this?” She gazed around again, almost like she could
see
the forces.

“I guess,” said Oliver, wondering if he preferred the grossed-out Emalie, who used to cling tightly to his sweatshirt in this place.

They left the Underground and proceeded through the sewer tunnels. As they did so, Oliver slipped back to the tree house. It was daytime in the Delta. Emalie was there, but she sat perfectly still, eyes closed.

“How's it going?” Dean asked. He glanced warily at the unresponsive Emalie.

“Fine,” muttered Oliver, not wanting to get into it. “Where are you guys at?”

“We just left the Vera Project,” Dean reported. “Lythia was hungry.… Pretty good bands, though. It was one of those Three Imaginary Girls shows. Have you ever heard—”

“Dean,” Oliver said sharply.

“Right, sorry. We're downtown now. In the sewers beneath Fifth Avenue. Looks like we're headed for the Ball.”

Oliver nodded. “Okay, well, we're almost there, too. Keep me posted.”

“Roger that,” said Dean.

Oliver drifted back up to the world. He and Emalie soon reached a set of glass double doors in the sewer wall. Frosted letters across the doors read: iniquity bank tower. “Here we are,” he said nervously. He stepped forward and the doors slid open automatically. It all came down to these next few steps.

As they crossed the threshold, they passed through an invisible, liquidlike wall: a dead detector. Emalie stepped right through it, then shrugged nonchalantly. “No problem,” she said.

“There's more,” said Oliver, flustered. Ahead, standing before gold elevator doors, was the black-cloaked Reader, its single eye glowing. “Just act like you belong,” said Oliver.

“Mmm,” said Emalie. She reached over and took his hand with her cold fingers.

The Reader stared at them as they approached. Oliver nodded to it. “Hi,” he said. They reached the elevator, Oliver pressed the up arrow, and they waited. The Reader looked them over. There was a ding and the elevator doors opened. Oliver and Emalie stepped in. Turning, Oliver found the Reader watching them, but not reacting.

“
Ciao
,” said Emalie. Oliver turned to see her smiling with feigned charm. The doors slid closed.

“Emalie, careful,” Oliver warned. “It's only going to get harder.”

“Just watch me,” Emalie murmured.

The elevator rocketed upward, and the doors opened onto an enormous hall carved from the top five floors of the tower. The Darkling Ball was in full swing. The focal point of the room was a wide wooden dance floor at the base of a large orchestra stage. The floor was consumed in a flurry of spinning tuxedoes and dresses. Couples mingled around the perimeter, holding crystal goblets, laughing and chatting. Groups watched the dancers from the many balconies above.

“Oliver?” Phlox and Sebastian approached. Sebastian wore a tuxedo with long tails, and Phlox was wrapped in a ruffled purple gown.

Time to play the part
, Oliver thought nervously to Emalie, but then remembered that she couldn't hear him. He smiled at his parents. “Hey, guys,” he said, and watched as Phlox and Sebastian surveyed Emalie in awe, noting the bite marks, the bluish skin, and sensing her mysterious demon presence.

“Oliver,” Phlox repeated, her eyes wide. “Is she…”

“I needed a date for the ball,” said Oliver, trying to sound nonchalant.

Others were gathering now. Tyrus, Leah, even Seth and his parents.

Sebastian peered at Emalie. “But, Oliver, how did you do this?”

Right on cue, a voice spoke from behind them. “I helped.” Everyone turned to see Ty Gimble, Bane's old friend, leaning against the wall by the elevator. “Little Nocturne said he'd found a date, but he needed help
asking
her.” Ty grinned. “It was the least I could do for my friend's younger brother.”

“We never thought…” said Phlox, fighting a smile, “this is…”

“Extraordinary,” said Sebastian, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. “Hello, Emalie, I'm—”

“Call me Syren,” said Emalie, extending her hand.

What are you doing?
Oliver thought frantically, but once again, there was no reply. Giving herself a vampire name? Emalie was taking this too far, but Oliver had no choice now other than to smile and play along. “Thanks again, Ty,” he said.

“No prob, always glad to help.” Ty licked his teeth and sauntered off proudly.

“Well then,” said Phlox, “I—I'm just stunned.” She glanced up to the arched glass ceiling high above. Spanning the windows was a gold band with discs, tracing the path that the moon would take on the equinox. When it reached the exact middle, it would be time for the Anointment. The moon was more than halfway there. “There's still a little time. I guess… have fun.”

“Thanks,” said Oliver. He led Emalie away from the crowd, feeling their amazed eyes on him. The problem child had made good. Everyone seemed convinced. And Ty had played his part perfectly. Still, Oliver had no idea what to make of his date.

“What were you doing making up a vampire name? Are you crazy?”

“Relax,” Emalie scoffed. “They totally bought it.”

They reached the tables of refreshments by the walls. There was a line of cooks holding fry pans over a trough of magmalight, frying up night crawlers in agave nectar. Beyond them was a lavish table of desserts, featuring sparkling crystal sculptures made entirely of hard candy. An attendant used a small blowtorch to remove pieces of the sculptures for guests to suck on.

“You want a worm?” asked Oliver. “After those chocolate cockroaches, these are easy.”

“How about we have some of that?” Emalie said with a mischievous smile, glancing over to where the drinks were being served.

There was an elaborate fountain made of glass and silver. Crimson liquid cascaded down the levels, ending in crystal punch bowls at the base. The fountain was fed by a line of brass nozzles. Copper pipes connected these to cages hanging down from the ceiling on chains. Each cage was long and thin, made of black metal, and held an upside-down human. They were in Staesys, frozen in time, unaware that their blood was being drained.

“Emalie—” Oliver began.

“It's Syren,” she said, a devilish smile on her face.

“Come on,” Oliver said, flustered. “
I
can't even have that stuff. Can you try to remember that you're not really a vampire?”

“Why?” said Emalie. “Everybody here thinks I am. Why not have some fun?”

“You're just—” Oliver stammered “—It shouldn't be
fun
for you.”

Emalie rolled her eyes. “You're being boring.”

“No, I'm not,” Oliver muttered.

“Okay, fine. No blood. Let's dance, then,” said Emalie more quietly, finally sounding a bit like her living self.

Except dancing was terrifying. “Well…”

Emalie grabbed his arm and led the way out into the spinning couples. Oliver watched the other dancers and tried desperately to remember all the steps that he and every other vampire child were taught.… Yes, okay, they were doing Karloff's fox-trot, which was like the traditional box step dance, only with a quick, levitating half spin replacing the fourth step.

“Come on,” Emalie said, grinning. “Sweep me off my feet.”

“I—” Oliver had no idea what to say. He felt a new kind of awkward around her, but managed to take her hand and shoulder and ease them into the dance. They spiraled among the couples, Oliver working overtime not to mess up the steps, or crush Emalie's toes.

But it went pretty well. Oliver was fairly musical, and he'd been a quick study of the formal dances in school, which had of course earned him lots of taunting from Bane.
Who knew little lambs could dance?

They passed Theo and Kym on the floor, both of whom gaped at Oliver and his date. He saw Phlox and Sebastian among the dancers, smiling in his direction, and Oliver did his best to smile back. It seemed that they really had pulled this off.

“It's funny,” said Emalie.

Oliver reeled in his gaze and found her mere inches from his face again. She had pulled in close enough that their bodies were just touching. “What's funny?” he gasped.

“It's funny how you don't breathe,” she said, and put her head against his shoulder. Oliver thought he might melt. The weight of her against him, the ruffling of her dress against his jacket. “You're so still, except when you speak, but then, still again.”

“You're not breathing, either,” said Oliver.

“Yeah, I know. It's so much more
calm
when you don't have to suck in air all the time.”

“I guess,” Oliver agreed, and yet, he bristled at hearing Emalie talking about her undead condition with such
interest.
Then again, her soul was out of her body.… Maybe it wasn't strange at all. But Oliver missed the living Emalie, who would have been conflicted: thinking the danger of this was interesting, but also being just slightly turned off and worried by…well…the vampire-ness of it.

“It's too bad we couldn't be like this all the time,” Emalie said.

“What?” Oliver leaned back from her.

Emalie fixed him with a deadly serious gaze. Her eyes seemed to grow two sizes bigger, her dark brown pupils suspended in those strangely clear whites. “Come on, admit it. What's the point of living if you're just going to die? It's such a
waste.
And it comes so
soon
for a human. Besides…” The corner of her mouth rose in a mischievous grin.

Oliver only managed to make a confused face. “Besides what?” he croaked.

“Well, you
like
me, don't you?”

“I—” Oliver had the urge to say,
Duh!
Of course he liked her! He always had. But she wasn't supposed to
ask
him about it! In the thousands of times that Oliver had nervously imagined a moment like this between himself and Emalie, a moment when Oliver might really
say
something to her that captured the way he felt about her all the time, when they might even
kiss
… It wasn't like this.

“Come on, Oliver,” Emalie said again, almost like it was a dare. “It's better having me dead, isn't it? We'd never have to grow apart. No more sad birthdays.”

Oliver felt a rushing, like everything inside him was being swept away, leaving a hollow space. Here they were, dancing, together, and who knew if there'd be a moment like this for them ever again? But if she were like him… there could be. She could even join him if he opened the Gate. They could explore the higher worlds forever.

“It could be fun,” Emalie whispered, and Oliver found her leaning toward him. Oliver began to lean in as well. Her black-hole eyes seemed to grow beyond a logical size, sucking him inward, her lips
right
there, bluish purple against her gray-and-lavender skin….

But then he pulled back. It wasn't right. No matter how much he wanted this, no matter how he felt about Emalie… “Let's get some punch,” he said, and led her off the dance floor.

“Oliver,” Emalie groaned as they reached the cascading fountain. Beside it was a simple glass bowl for the kids, advertised as Primate Punch.

“Sorry,” he said, avoiding her eyes and focusing instead on filling a goblet.

“Ugh,” Emalie huffed. “Sometimes you're such a lamb.”

Oliver recoiled. “Don't call me that.” He'd never imagined that word,
Bane's
word, coming from Emalie's mouth. “Everything's different with you like this, so don't.… Let's just get this over with and bring you back to life.”

Emalie frowned and rolled her eyes, almost like Suzyn or another of his vampire classmates would. “Fine,” she grumbled.

Oliver slugged back his drink. He went to refill his glass, when an arm fell across his shoulder.

“Oliver.” It was Phlox, Sebastian beside her. Their faces were tight, nervous. “It's time.”

Oliver glanced to the ceiling and saw the moon nearing the apex. He nodded, feeling a rush of nerves, and had that old urge to run, to escape, but it was far too late for that. “Em—Syren can come, right?” he asked. “It's important to me.”

“Well, I—” Sebastian began, but stopped when Phlox gave him a severe look.

“Of course you can, Syren,” Phlox said to Emalie. “You're a lucky girl to join us on a night as important as this.”

“Thank you,” said Emalie.

They crossed the room. Around them, the party swirled on, but here and there, select figures were beginning to move toward a set of inconspicuous black metal doors at the back of the hall. Most of the people here just thought this was a fancy seasonal party. Only those in Half-Light knew its true purpose.

The Nocturnes arrived just after the doors slid closed, taking an elevator full of Half-Light members down to the site of the Anointment. Two Pyreth Guardians stood on either side of the doors. They were hunched, lizardlike creatures with magma-colored eyes. Their skin looked like it had been burned to a crisp. It was sectioned into large, charred plates, and the spaces between glowed like molten rock.