Charmfall (6 page)

Surprised, I looked over at her. “Parents’ night?”

Her expression fell. “Oh, crap on toast. I totally forgot to tell you about parents’ night, didn’t I?”

“That would be ‘yes.’”

“The night before Sneak, all the parents come in and have dinner with their kids. It’s not an official event or anything—that has something to do with insurance.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “My parents don’t come.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me because my parents are God knows where?”

She just frowned. “Sorry.”

I shrugged, but it hurt. Not because she hadn’t told me, but because she was right. I knew where they wouldn’t be—having dinner with me the night before Sneak. They wouldn’t be asking me how school was going. They wouldn’t be checking out my room, or asking me about Jason, or lecturing me about how late I should be staying out or whether I was spending enough time on homework.

I wouldn’t be telling them about magic and Adepts and firespell and Reapers—assuming they didn’t already know. (I was a little suspicious about that.) I wouldn’t be complaining about Enclaves and sanctuaries and Darkenings and vampires and the tunnels beneath St. Sophia’s.

Maybe that was for the best.

Even if it was for the best, misery loved company. “Why don’t your parents come?” I asked Scout.

She shrugged. “They have their roles, and I have mine. My role is staying put at St. Sophia’s and not interrupting them. Their roles are using their money, traveling, being ‘the Montgomery Greens.’”

“That’s your dad?”

She nodded. “My mother doesn’t even hardly use her name anymore. She’s just ‘Mrs. Montgomery Green.’” She shrugged. “I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t want to have a kid and then stick her in a private school where I didn’t have to see her or know who she was. But they came from money, and both of them went to boarding school. It’s how they were raised. It’s normal for them.”

It was clear she wanted more, that she longed to know her parents—and for them to know her. But she also seemed to accept that they were who they were, and they were unlikely to change.

I had parents who wanted to be involved but who, for some mysterious reason, couldn’t. She had parents who could be involved but, for some mysterious reason, didn’t want to.

Sometimes, people just didn’t make any sense.

“I wonder if I should even tell them about parents’ night,” I finally said, glancing over at her. “Will I feel better or worse when they tell me they want to come but can’t?”

“That’s a question for the ages, Parker.”

I made the decision quickly, stopped in the middle of the tunnel, and took a second to send my parents a text message. At least I knew they’d be here if they could.

Lost in our thoughts, we walked silently back to St. Sophia’s, then froze.

The basement was shielded from the tunnels by an antique, heavy metal door. There was a giant flywheel that locked it, and a metal bar that added a little extra security. It didn’t do much to keep out Reapers with magic, but it did keep out the nastier creepy-crawlies that occasionally trolled the tunnels.

But tonight, the door was cracked open, light from the basement shining through. Now there was no magical barrier at all to whoever—or whatever—tried to sneak into the school.

My heart began to thud. “Who?” was the only question I could manage.

“I don’t know.” She straightened her messenger bag. “But we better go look.”

I nodded, and we crept to the sliver of light beside the door and peeked into the hallway. It was empty. Whatever had opened the door—or come through it—was gone.

We walked inside and closed the door behind us, but not all the way.

“Probably shouldn’t lock it in case we need to chase out whatever got in,” I quietly said. She nodded. We crept down the hallway, which was pretty short, and then to the next corner. That hallway was empty, as well, but another door was open. It was marked
JANITOR’S CLOSET
, but it was actually called the City Room. A small model of the entire city of Chicago made in gray cardboard was spread out across the floor, like a short, three-dimensional map.

The brat pack had locked me in the City Room one night, which actually led to my getting firespell. So I guess I had Veronica to thank for that. Not that I was getting her a card or anything . . . That was an odd place for someone to sneak into; not exactly the kind of place you expected an evil monster to hide. What was going on?

Scout pointed at the door, and I nodded. Silently, we crept along the wall to the City Room and looked inside.

“Holy crap,” Scout said.

There in the middle of the City Room, legs straddled over the city of Chicago, stood Nicu, head of the newest coven of Chicago vampires.

He turned back to look at us, his black, military-style coat fluttering around his knees as he moved. He looked young, but he was handsome in an old-fashioned way. Pale skin, wavy dark hair, blue eyes. And when he was vamped out, inch-long fangs. Tonight he wore knee-high boots, snug pants, and a blousy white shirt.

No one looked that good accidentally. He looked date-night good, and that made me nervous. Really nervous. Was he waiting for Veronica? Had he ignored the fact that her memory had been erased and actually contacted her? Surely he wouldn’t be that stupid. Sure, she might talk to him—but the press would be the second number on her speed dial, and vampires wouldn’t be a secret in Chicago anymore.

And that was the other reason I was nervous. He was a
vampire
. With the bloodsucking and the fangs and a pretty obvious dislike of humans. Most humans, anyway.

“What are you doing here?” Scout asked.

Nicu’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he flashed his fangs, as if to remind us that he wasn’t a child we could boss around.

“I do not answer to you.” His voice carried a deep accent, and he glowered at us—and that’s the only word I could use to describe it.
Glowering.

Sure, my instincts told me to run in the other direction and hunker down, but instead I took a step forward. I was tired, and I was out of patience for supernaturals today.

“You’re in our territory,” I said for the second time in a night. “You most definitely answer to us. And I repeat the question—what are you doing here?”

Nicu looked away, and this time there was sadness in his expression. I figured out his game.

“We erased her memory,” I reminded him, “so she’d forget about the magic and the vampires.”

“Her?” Scout asked.

“Veronica,” I said, keeping my eyes on him. “Nicu’s here to see Veronica.”

“I am aware of the state of her memory,” he said, his accent thick, but somehow fitting in the old stone convent. “I thought, perhaps, I might catch a glimpse of her.” He gestured to the room. “But I find your home to be . . . labyrinthine.”

He was right. The convent was like a maze, and he hadn’t even made it onto the first floor yet. He must have gotten stuck in the City Room, and perhaps had been gazing at the map to find a way out.

“Why come through the tunnels?” Scout asked.

“How else would we travel? We live here, beneath ground. We do not travel in the demesne of humans. We do not stand in the bourgeois glare of the sun.” His voice was flat, like that was an obvious rule of vampires I should have known about.

“She’s human,” I pointed out. “And she’s not the type to keep a secret,” I said. “Seeing her again will only cause problems, and I bet you know that. Or you wouldn’t have agreed to her memory being wiped.”

“We have a connection.”

God only knew what he saw in Veronica. Sure, she was pretty, and she seemed smart when she wasn’t using her brains for evil. But she
always
used her brains for evil.

Scout took up the debate. “If you find her, you put her and yourself in danger. Her, because she learns about magic, and Reapers might see her as a threat. You, because she learns about magic and that’s one more person who knows vampires exist. Are you ready for that?”

He looked from me to Scout, and then turned again, coat spinning around his legs as he moved. He may be a big scary vampire, but he was also kind of cool, you know? Like he could have been the guitarist in an English punk band.

“You think I am not aware of the consequences? You are a child, and a human child at that. I have lived more years than you can even conceive. I know the risk.”

Risk or not, here he was. I wasn’t going to give a thumbs-up to a vampire sneaking around my school, but I guess the romantic in me could appreciate the fact that he was here.

“She’ll be asleep,” I said. “She shares a suite with three other girls. You couldn’t get in and get out without being seen.”

“Lily!” Scout whispered fiercely. “Do
not
encourage the fanged!”

I held up a finger. “Could you excuse us just for one second?” I didn’t wait for his answer, but dragged Scout into the hallway.

“We should be threatening him, not giving him tips!” she said. “He is a monster.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but he’s a monster with an agenda. If we don’t help him, he’ll sneak in, possibly leave the door open again, allowing Reapers in the school, and risk being seen by some wandering dragon lady, thus proving vampires exist to people who don’t need to know that.”

She considered that for a second. “You’ve been reading a lot of fantasy lately, haven’t you?”

“It helps me sleep.”

“He could hurt Veronica,” she said.

Not that I’d wish her (much) harm, but that seemed unlikely. “He has a crush on her,” I said. “I don’t get why, and I don’t think we need to play chaperone every time they hang out, but maybe if we introduce him as a human we could sidestep any of the supernatural drama? Then it’s just relationship drama, and we can leave that to them.”

Scout was quiet for a minute.

I knew it wasn’t a great idea to escort a vampire through a sardine can of tasty teenagers. But when did Adepts ever have “great” options? My idea was the better of two crappy options, if you asked me.

“If we don’t help him see her, then we don’t get to control when and how he sees her.”

She rolled her eyes, but finally nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. When’s your next night of party planning?”

“Every night. Sneak is Friday.”

“Right. We’ll play it that way, then. But I don’t think he’s going to be crazy about playing human.”

“I’m often not crazy about it, either,” I muttered, and we marched back into the room.

Nicu was standing in the middle of Lake Michigan, gazing up on the lakeshore. I bet he’d never been on the lake before. Immortality would be nice, but that would kind of be a bummer.

“We’ll arrange a meeting,” Scout said. “Our time, our place, our rules.” She elbowed me. I guessed I was supposed to break the bad news.

“And you have to pretend to be human.” I fought the urge to duck under his brutal stare.

Fire flashed in his eyes. “I will
not
do so.”

“Then you will not get our help in meeting Veronica,” Scout said.

He flashed his fangs. “I do not need your help.”

I put a hand on Scout’s arm to keep her from mouthing off. “What she means, Nicu, is that in order to keep everyone’s secrets, well,
secret
, you’re going to need to play it cool with Veronica. No fangs—if you can turn those things off—and maybe a little less of the I’d-just-as-soon-throttle-you-as-look-at-you vibe.”

He just blinked at me. I wasn’t sure vampires needed to blink, and it seemed scarier because of that. Unnerving, like he was more machine—or monster—than man.

“You will contact me,” he finally said.

“Yes, yes, we will contact you. How do we do that?”

He reached into his coat, and I froze, waiting for him to pull out a musket or a ninja star or a sleek vampire weapon. Instead, he pulled out a small white business card.

He handed it over between two fingers. “Call me,” he said.

And just like that—like we’d only been discussing the weather—he walked past us and out of the room, leaving the faint scent of coppery metal in his wake. The sound of his boots softened as he disappeared into the tunnels. Then we heard the metallic
screech
and
clank
as the door opened and shut again, and he was gone.

“That was fun.”

Scout humphed. “Can you imagine dating a vampire? All the fangs and blood and stuff?” She gave a fake shiver, and we were quiet for a moment.

“Still,” I said, “Nicu’s pretty hot.”

“Oh, my God, I am so glad someone else said it. Totally
en fuego
, isn’t he? I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers.”

I gave her a doubtful look.

“I mean, I’m not saying I’d let him
in
my bed in the first place—I am not that kind of girl—but I feel like I wouldn’t kick him out again, either.”

“I feel like I’d fight you for him.” We closed up and secured the basement door again, then climbed the stairs to the first floor and peeked into the main building.

The building was better lit and less damp than the tunnels, which was nice, but we still had to be careful. Instead of vampires roaming around we had Foley’s minions—the dragon ladies who roamed the hallways on the lookout for Adepts breaking curfew.

St. Sophia’s had been a Gothic convent, so most of the school still looked like a medieval church. The main building held the administrative wing, the chapel, and a giant circular room topped by a dome. The floor and walls were all stone, and there was a maze built into the stone beneath the dome. It was a really impressive room, but also kind of creepy. It was dark even in the middle of the day, and at night it wasn’t hard to imagine monsters hiding in the corners.

When we were sure the coast was clear, we hustled through the room, and then into the Great Hall. That was our study-room-slash-library. It had tall, stained glass windows and lots of tables where we were forced to spend two hours every night doing homework. (Boarding school was fun!)

It was empty this late at night, so we ran through the hall and then into the dorm building where the suites were located. We went upstairs to our suite, and I unlocked the door with the key I wore around my neck on a ribbon. Every St. Sophia’s girl got one. It was part of the welcome package.