After Dark (15 page)

“Bit of a headache, boss,” one of them said, and the others nodded.

“Don't nod all together like that. It's unnatural,” Jake said and turned away.

“Right, boss,” the same one said, and Mom came back with the sunscreen.

“Take it with you,” she said, handing it over and grabbing my arm. “Reapply every hour,” she added, pulling me to the door.

“Keep your eyes open for Johnny and Lilith,” I said.

“Just mow the lawn, Charlie,” she said and lovingly shoved me out the door. In the background, Jake's men kept staring at me with vague, empty expressions.

The door shut, and I stood there trying to decide what to do next. If I wasn't losing my mind (there was no guarantee of that), and there really was some kind of strange infection being spread around Rolling Hills, I was going to need a plan. Clearly, the people who were infected behaved a lot differently during the day than they did at night. For one, they used their words during the day rather than just mutely lunging at you with their pointy fangs. They didn't move really fast either; in fact, they seemed kind of slow and dull. And they avoided the sun, which made me think they might be vampires. Of course, that idea forced me to consider the possibility that I was indeed losing my mind, because, let's face it, vampires aren't real. Those were the mixed-up, wacky thoughts I was having when the sound of Miles Van Helsing's minicycle cut through the morning, and I knew things were probably going to get a whole lot wackier. All the same, it was a relief to know I wouldn't be alone with my crazy thoughts, and Miles would almost certainly add a few of his own.

About three seconds later, he coasted into the driveway, black smoke puffing out behind him. I walked over, but he didn't get off of his minicycle. In fact, he angled it away from me.

“What's that on your arms?” he asked, squinting and looking me up and down. “Is that zinc oxide? Are you shielding yourself from the sun?”

“It's calamine lotion,” I said.

“So, you're saying the sun doesn't bother you?”

“I'm not infected with anything, Miles,” I said. Leave it to Miles Van Helsing to make me feel like I wasn't paranoid enough.

“Do you have a headache?”

“No, and look, Doctor — I can dance, too,” I said, pretending to tap dance.

He turned off the minicycle. “The camera was gone,” he said.

“Huh?”

“The video camera you foolishly hurled at Igor Balic,” he said, taking off his helmet and goggles.

“Igor who?”

“The extremely large individual you struck with my camera last night? His name is Igor Balic. I didn't go home and go to sleep last night, you know. I did research.”

“I wish I'd spent my night doing research,” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the driveway. “Come with me. We need to check on my mom.”

“I uncovered some extremely interesting information, Charlie,” he said, trying to stop.

“We're going to have to walk and talk,” I said, yanking him along. “My mom's in there with a work crew that might be —”

“Listen, Charlie. Igor Balic is the head of security for the Opal Corporation — he's an ex-KGB agent.”

“The Opal Corporation?” I said, rounding the back corner of the inn.

“Yes, it's a multinational company owned by Victor Opal. Mr. Baxter is also an employee of the Opal Corporation. He's the chief engineer in charge of exploration and excavation.”

“I thought Opal was into restaurants and resorts,” I whispered when we were outside the back door.

“No, that stuff's just a side interest — it's not his bread and butter,” Miles said. “Opal made his fortune searching for and finding buried treasure.”

I put my finger to my lips to get Miles to stop talking, then eased open the door and skittered across the back room, motioning for him to follow me.

“Buried treasure is kind of a simple way of saying it,” he whispered, slinking along behind me. “But that's what it boils down to. Opal tracks down and salvages ancient artifacts. Baxter's his man on the ground, and he just got back from their most recent dig a few days —”

He would have kept talking, but I made the international sign to shut up by running an imaginary zipper across my lips. He nodded, and I ever so slowly opened the door that led into the dining room. The hinges creaked a little, but the dining room was empty, and I didn't hear footsteps rushing toward us, so I figured we were in the clear — for now. We scooted into the dining room.

“Do you understand what I'm saying, Charlie?” Miles whispered.

There were two windows along the side of the inn, but the thick drapes were closed, so the room was shrouded in darkness.

“I think so,” I replied. I could hear murmuring coming from across the hall. “Opal's a treasure hunter.”

“Yeah, and Baxter just got back from a dig.” He grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to turn and face him. “On
Oak Island
.” He held up his hands and looked at me as if he'd just proven that the sun actually rotates around the Earth.

“Obviously Oak Island is supposed to mean something to me, but you're going to have to fill me in later,” I whispered. “Right now I need to check on my mom.”

“I think Baxter found something danger —”

I spun around and clapped my hand over his mouth. “Shut up!” I hissed through gritted teeth.

He gave me the okay sign.

I turned and crept toward the sitting room at the front of the inn, sticking close to the wall. The voices had died away, but I could hear a shuffling sound coming from what was probably the drawing room.

I peered into the sitting room. It was as empty as the dining room. I listened. People were definitely moving around in the drawing room. The floor was creaking, feet were shuffling, something went bump and then there was a grunt. It kind of sounded like people were struggling, maybe wrestling. Another thump. I pictured my mom and Jake being pinned down by eight thick arms, roped with muscle. I could see Jake's work crew holding their mouths shut, and then … and then what? Would those fangs appear? Could they do that during the day?

I looked at Miles. His eyes were bugging out. “Who's in there?”

“They're infected,” I whispered. My heart was thumping in triple time. “My mom's in there with them.”

“We've got to stop them,” he whispered.

I nodded and took a deep breath, but my heart wouldn't slow down.

“Do you have any wooden stakes?” Miles asked. “Or garlic?”

“They're all in my other pants,” I said.

“This is serious, Charlie!” Miles hissed.

“Don't you think I know that?” I whispered.

There was another thud from the drawing room, and we both flinched.

“We're just going to have to battle them without garlic,” Miles said. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, and like two half-crazed bulls, we rushed out of the dining room, through the sitting room and the foyer, then burst into the drawing room. My hands were clenched into fists, and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. I was a tightly coiled spring, ready to pop.

“In the name of all that is holy — STOP!” Miles commanded.

Everyone stopped.

But my mom and Jake weren't even in the drawing room — it was just Jake's crew. They weren't holding anyone down either. They were moving furniture. Two of them were carrying a long couch, another was moving a green, leather-upholstered chair. One of them was placing the antique dolls into a cardboard box. They were all looking my way. Surprisingly, their sunglasses were off — although it was pretty dark in there, with the drapes drawn.

“What's going on?” Mom said, rushing in behind us.

“I thought …” I sputtered.

“Charlie, this is ridiculous. Why aren't you mowing the lawn?”

“I thought …” I started again.

“Go,” she said. “And, Miles, leave the drapes alone!”

Miles, who had been edging his way toward the drapes, hesitated for a split second and then lunged at them.

“Miles!” Mom bellowed.

His hands were an inch away from tearing them open when the guy who'd been packing up the antique dolls jumped up and grabbed him by his shoulders, yanking him back, away from the window.

“We're painting this room,” he said, huffing as though he'd just finished doing the 100-meter dash. “We need to keep it cool.”

I could see Miles was thinking about making another break for the drapes, but Mom stepped in front of him, blocking the way.

“That's fine,” Miles said, looking around at Jake's men. “I found what I was looking for.”

“Mom, can I —” I started, but she cut me off.

“I'm tired, and I don't want to see you until lunch, Charlie. GO.”

“But —”

“Scram,” she growled and pointed toward the front door.

I looked around at Jake's men. Besides the one who had grabbed Miles, they hadn't budged, although I noticed they were sweating profusely and their arms were starting to shake from holding up the chair and the sofa while all this had been happening. I had to admit, they didn't look like they were about to attack my mom.

“What about Johnny and Lilith?”

“Lilith came down and told me they're not feeling well. I'm going to give them the morning off.”

“And I'm feeling well?” I asked, holding up my arms.

“OUT!” she roared and pushed me into the foyer.

“I'm leaving, I'm leaving,” I said and walked out the front door, this time under my own power.

“Don't come back until lunch,” Mom said and then slammed the door behind me.

Miles was already outside, standing by the drawing room windows. “That was a tremendous fact-gathering operation.”

“They didn't bite anyone — that was good,” I said. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, making me feel shaky.

“It's better than good, Charlie. They're slow and weak. The guy who grabbed me looks like he spends a great deal of time at the gym, but he obviously expended a huge amount of energy just pulling me away from the drapes. I think I could have barreled right over him if your mom hadn't been around.”

“Are you sure about that?” someone said from behind me, making me involuntarily jolt forward and spin around at the same time. My adrenaline, which had just started to peter out, kicked in again. Lilith had managed to sneak up on us without making a sound. Worse than that, though, her face was blank, and she was sporting a pair of wraparound sunglasses.

“Hello, Lilith,” I said, trying to sound natural, although I could feel a large vein pulsating down the middle of my forehead. “It's good to see you.”

“The wise warrior remains open to all possibilities,” she said, stepping toward me.

I didn't want to hurt Lilith, and I was definitely hoping she didn't want to hurt me. What would happen to her if I knocked those glasses off? Would smoke billow out of her eyes? Would she disintegrate in front of me? I wouldn't wish that fate on Stanley Peck or Bryce Wagner, let alone my own flesh and blood.

Miles, however, had other ideas.

“Heeyaw!” he cried, as he rushed past me.

A surprise attack like that would have worked against any normal human being, but Lilith isn't normal. All her martial arts training has made her reactions lightning quick. She grabbed Miles by the collar, rolled and kicked him about six feet into the air. He flew over the porch railing and landed in one of Hal's thorny rosebushes. He let out a high-pitched yelp as he hit the thorns, and Lilith flipped back onto her feet.

“Watch yourself, Charlie,” she warned and then darted to the end of the porch, sprang over the railing and disappeared around the side of the inn.

I considered going after her, but I thought even a weakened Lilith would be able to outrun me.

“I almost had her,” Miles said, dragging himself out of the rosebushes.

“Not really,” I said.

“Which way did she go?” he asked, staggering back onto the porch. His face was covered in a crisscross of tiny scratches. “We should try to track her.”

“If Lilith doesn't want to be tracked, we're not going to track her — even if she's only at half power,” I said, feeling my heartbeat finally returning to something resembling normal. “Besides, I should probably get started on the lawn.”

“You're … what?” he stammered. “We've got less than ten hours before sundown, and you're … The
lawn
, Charlie? What the …?”

“Easy does it, Van Helsing. I think you might've blown a gasket in your thinking machine.”

“The lawn? Charlie, are you insane?”

“I was joking, Miles. I crack jokes when I'm scared, nervous and confused. Even if there wasn't some outlandish, zombie-vampire invasion-type emergency going down, I'd try to get out of mowing this lawn. Since there actually seems to be some type of outlandish, zombie-vampire invasion-type emergency going down, I think the lawn can wait. But what can we do? Call the FBI and tell them they need to send their best monster exterminators here ASAP?”

“Well, I can't call the FBI,” Miles said. “They have me on a list.”

“A list of what?”

“The Chicken Little List is what they call it,” Miles blurted, blushing a bit. “As if I'm some kind of fanatical end-of-the-worlder. All I've been trying to do is keep them informed of the paranormal activity we have in the area.”

“What if I called and told them it was an outbreak of something, like a virus?”

“They'd call Dutton and Dr. Griffin to check the facts before sending anyone here. We'll need to show them concrete evidence before they'll listen to us.”

“We're not going to try filming them again, are we?” I asked. “I don't think your minicycle's going to survive another chase down Elm Street.”