Blue Bloods: Keys to the Repository (12 page)

monsters, pale and undead, cold and clammy to the touch, creatures of the night that could turn into bats, or rats, or worse. She shivered and looked

around the room, wondering how fast she could jump out of bed and out the door. If there was even time to escape, could you outrun a vampire?

“Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of vampire,” he said soothingly, as if he’d read her mind.

“What kind would that be?”

“Oh you know, chomping on people without warning. Al that Dracula nonsense. Growing horns out of my head like your sad vampires on T.V.” He

shrugged. “For one thing, we’re not ugly.”

Hannah wanted to laugh but felt it would be rude. Her fright was slowly abating.

“Why are you here?”

“We live here,” he said simply.

“No one lived here for years before us,” Hannah said. “John Carter—the caretaker, he said it’s been empty forever.”

“Huh.” The boy shrugged. He took the corner seat across from her bed.

Hannah glanced at him warily, wondering if she should let him get that close. If he was a vampire, he didn’t look cold and clammy. He looked

tired. Exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t look like a cold-blooded kil er. But what did she know? Could she trust him? He

had visited her twice already, after al . If he’d wanted to drain her blood, he could have at any time. There was something about him—he was almost

too cute to be scared of.

“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked, when she found her voice.

“Oh, you mean the thing with the lights?”

She nodded.

“Dunno. For a long time, I couldn’t do anything. I was sleeping in your closet but you didn’t see me. Then I realized I could turn the lights on and

off, on and off. But it was only when you started noticing that I began to feel more like myself.”

“Why are you here?”

The boy closed his eyes. “I’m hiding from someone.”

“Who?”

He closed his eyes harder, so that his face was a painful grimace. “Somebody bad. Somebody who wants me dead— No, worse than dead.” He

shuddered.

“If you’re a vampire, aren’t you already dead?” she asked in a practical tone. She felt herself relaxing. Why should she be scared of him when it

was so obvious it was he who was frightened?

“No, not real y. It’s more like I’ve lived a long time. A long time,” he murmured. “This is my house. I remember the fireplace downstairs. I put the

plaque up myself.” He must be talking about that dusty old plaque next to the fireplace, Hannah thought. But it was so old and dirty she had never

thought to notice it before.

“Who’s chasing you?” Hannah asked.

“It’s compli—” but before the boy could finish, there was a rattle at the window. A thump, thump, thump, as if some-one—or something—were

throwing itself against it with al its might.

The boy jumped and vanished for a moment. He reappeared by the doorway, breathing fast and hard.

“What is that?” Hannah asked, her voice trembling.

“It’s here. It found me,” he said sharply, as if he were about to flee. And yet he remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the vibrating glass.

“Who?”

“The bad . . . thing . . .”

Hannah stood up and peered out the window. Outside was dark and peaceful. The trees, skeletal and bare of branches, stood stil in the snowy

field and against the frozen water. Moonlight cast the view in a cold, blue glow.

“I don’t see any— Oh!” She stepped back as if she’d been stabbed. She had seen something. A presence. Crimson eyes and silver pupils.

Staring at her from the dark. Outside the window, it was hovering. A dark mass. She could feel its rage, its violent desire. It wanted in, to consume, to

feed.

Hannah . . . Hannah . . .

It knew her name.

Let me in . . . Let me in . . .

The words had a hypnotic effect. She moved toward the window and began to lift the latch.

“STOP!”

She turned. The boy stood at the doorway, a tense, frantic look on his face.

“Don’t,” he said. “That’s what it wants you to do. Invite it inside. As long as you keep that window closed, it can’t come in. And I’m safe.”

“What
i s
it?” Hannah asked, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She took her hand away from the window but kept her eyes on the view

outside. There was nothing there anymore, but she could sense its presence. It was near.

“A vampire too. Like me, but different. It’s . . . insane,” he said. “It feeds on its own kind.”

“A vampire that hunts vampires?”

The boy nodded. “I know it sounds ridiculous . . .”

“Did it . . . do that to you?” she said, crossing to him and brushing her fingers against the scabs on his neck. They felt rough to touch. She felt

sorry for him.

“Yes.”

“But you’re al right?”

“I think so.” He hung his head. “I hope so.”

“How were you able to come inside? No one invited you,” she asked.

“You’re right. But I didn’t need an invitation. The door was open. But so many doors were open on al the houses, and I couldn’t enter any of them

but this one. Which made me think that I’d found it. My family’s house.”

Hannah nodded. That made sense. Of course he would be welcome in his own home.

The rattling stopped. The boy sighed. “It’s gone for now. But it wil be back.”

He looked so relieved that her heart went out to him.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked. She wasn’t scared anymore. Her mother always said Hannah had a head for emergencies. She was

a stoic, dependable girl. More likely to plant a stake in the heart of a monster than scream for rescue from the railroad tracks. “How can I help?”

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her with respect. “I need to get away. I can’t stay here forever. I need to go. I need to warn the others. Tel

them what happened to me. That the danger is growing.” He sagged against the wal . “What I ask you to do might hurt a bit, and I don’t want to ask

unless it’s freely given.”

“Blood, isn’t it? You need blood. You’re weak,” Hannah said. “You need my blood.”

“Yes.” The shadows cast his face in sharp angles, and Hannah could see the deep hol ows in his cheeks. His sal ow complexion. So perhaps

some of the vampire legends were true.

“But won’t I turn into . . . ?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. No one can make a vampire. We were born like this. Cursed. You wil be fine—tired and a

little sleepy, maybe, but fine.”

Hannah gulped. “Is it the only way?” She didn’t much like how that sounded. He would have to bite her. Suck her blood. She felt nauseous just

thinking about it, but strangely excited as wel .

The boy nodded slowly. “I understand if you don’t want to. It’s not something that most people would like to do.”

“Can I think about it?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

Then he disappeared.

The next night, when he returned, he looked even sicker than he had before, as if he were fading—deteriorating right before her eyes. His

cheekbones were so sharp and his skin stretched so tight, Hannah thought she could see the outline of his skul . He looks half dead, she thought, and

wondered if someone who
was
undead could
look
half dead.

“You’re not half wrong.” He smiled.

“You read minds as wel .” It was a statement, not a question.

“I can when I want to—but I didn’t even have to—I can tel from the way you’re looking at me. I look that bad, huh?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so stupid,” the boy said, putting clenched fists up to his eyes as if he were trying to block out a horrible memory. “I should have known from

the beginning—I’m so very stupid. . . .” He removed his fists from his face and looked down at his dirty fingernails.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

The boy continued to rant in a furious whisper. “I should have known it was her. I did know, but I forgot. . . . I think she used me or something . . .

inside her did . . . everything’s so muddled in my mind . . . I mean, I remember what happened but sometimes I can’t believe it did happen . . . and I

feel like
I’m
the one who should be out there. Sometimes I feel like I
am
out there.”

He wasn’t making any sense, and Hannah was starting to feel as confused as he sounded. “Who’s she?” But he didn’t have to say it. This time, it

was written al over the anguish on his face. Hannah felt a quick stab of jealousy. There was another girl involved. There always was. You didn’t get to

look like him—weary and handsome, with those sad black eyes—and not have some kind of girlfriend baggage.

“She was very special to me,” he murmured. “But I think I’m going to have to get back . . . so I can. God. So I can kil her.” Then he broke down

into gasping, choking sobs. “I have to . . . but I don’t know if I’l be able to. . . . I might just let it have me. . . . It would be easier in a way.”

Hannah got up from her bed and embraced him. She was not a touchy-feely kind of person but she wanted to do something to make him feel

better. When her parents first separated, she was a zombie, an empty shel , devoid of feeling, but aching with a great and furious need for comfort.

Her mother had tried to help, to reach out, but Hannah had resisted accepting succor from the person who was partly to blame for her misery. After al ,

maybe if her mother hadn’t been such a hard person to live with, her father would never have left her for Delphine, the Temptress Art Dealer. Who

knew.

But whatever sorrow the divorce had brought to her life paled in comparison to what this boy was going through. He radiated fear, trembling in

her arms. She didn’t real y understand what he was tel ing her, but she could tel that he was running out of time.

Something thumped on the window hard, making them jump away from each other. Hannah took a sharp breath. The glass vibrated, but held and

didn’t shatter. That vampire thing was back. It was out there. It was close. It wanted to feed.

And so did he.

The boy needed her blood, the strength and life force within it. He needed her to survive. He would die without her. Maybe not the kind of death

humans experienced, but an emptiness nonetheless. A defeat. He would give himself up. He was growing weaker and weaker, and one day he

wouldn’t be able to resist the monster’s cal . He would walk out to meet his doom.

Al he needed was to sink his fangs into her skin and drink her blood.

Hannah felt a shiver of revulsion at the thought. He was a monster, too. There was a monster in her bedroom. She moved away from him, her

eyes wide and frightened as if seeing him for the first time. A stranger. A dirty, incoherent, and unwelcome stranger.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I think you should leave now.”

“It’s al right,” he said mournful y. “I didn’t expect you to. It’s a lot to ask.”

The light blinked off, and he was gone.

Hannah’s mother got up early the next morning to make her breakfast. Banana pancakes with maple syrup that came from the can with the Canadian

flag on it. Hannah twirled the syrup around before taking a bite.

“Not hungry?” Kate asked. Kate had been the kind of person who ordered the housekeeper to make breakfast, who had made lists on Post-it

notes, a litany of orders for the staff to take care of for the day. Hannah had never seen her mother cook anything aside from the random scrambled

egg or the rare serving of pasta. Kate made one dish and made it wel —spaghetti with meatbal s. Now she cooked and cleaned, and her hands were

dry and cracked from wiping down the bar at work. In the winter, Kate was a souschef at the attached restaurant, chopping carrots and boning

chickens.

“Not real y.” Hannah shook her head. She had never wished for the kind of relationship with her mother that meant they could talk about boys and

crushes; she was almost glad that her mother didn’t jibe with the current intense befriending of her children. Kate was Mom. Hannah was Daughter.

There was no girlfriend gossip between them, and that had suited them both fine.

“You look tired, hon. Please don’t read with that dim light up there. It’l ruin your eyes.”

“My eyes are already ruined.”

Her mom drove her to the school, a few blocks away. Hannah trudged in the snow. The whole day she thought about him. She remembered his

words, his desperation to get away from the creature in the night that was hunting him. How alone he had looked. How scared. He looked like how

she had felt when her father had told her he was leaving them, and her mother had had no one to turn to.

That evening, before going to bed, she put on her cutest nightgown—a black one her aunt had brought back from Paris. It was silk and trimmed with

lace. Her aunt was her father’s sister and something of a “bad influence” (again, her mom’s words). Hannah had made a decision.

When he appeared at three in the morning, she was waiting for him, sitting in the armchair next to her bed. She told him she had changed her

mind.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do. I’m not that kind of vampire.”

“Yes. But do it quickly before I chicken out,” she ordered.

“You don’t have to help me,” he said.

“I know.” She swal owed. “But I want to.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he said.

She put a hand to her neck as if to protect it. “Promise?” How could she trust this strange boy? How could she risk her life to save him? But there

was something about him— his sleepy dark eyes, his haunted expression—that drew her to him. Hannah was the type of girl who took in stray dogs

and fixed birds’ broken wings. Plus, there was that thing out there in the dark. She had to help him get away from it.