Blood Ties (6 page)

And I may not have a chance to check them, anyway
. Oliver pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He had to hang on to the thread of hope that Phlox, Sebastian, and Tyrus had been talking about something else. They wouldn't
really
slay him, would they? Even among vampires, the thought of slaying a child was almost unthinkable, no matter how disappointing the child was.… But then, most children weren't disappointing a prophecy that involved saving the entire vampire world. As with everything else, the rules were probably different in Oliver's case.

A low chime sounded from down the hall.

“Oliver!” Phlox's heels began tapping down the stairs.

“I'm coming!” Oliver groaned. He grabbed the clothes nearest to him, not caring what they were, stuffed them into the suitcase, and hurried out of the crypt, reaching the sewer door just ahead of Phlox.

He pulled it open to find Dean, suitcase at his side, and he was surprised to see Dean's mom standing nervously behind him. She seemed to have taken some time to put herself together with makeup and jewelry, yet she still looked harried.

“Hey, Oliver,” said Dean.

“Hey, Dean. Hey, Mrs. Aunders, um…”

“My mom, uh,” Dean said nervously, “wanted to say thanks to—”

“Hello, Dean.” Phlox's voice was chilly behind Oliver. He saw Tammy's eyes widen, her mouth quivering slightly. Oliver turned to see Phlox, her gaze equal to the tone of her voice as she fixed a silver lizard earring with ruby eyes into her perfect white lobe.

“H-hi,” Tammy stammered. Oliver could literally hear her heart pounding. “I'm Tammy Aunders.”

Phlox just looked at her.

“I—I just wanted to thank you for taking my son on your vacation. My husband and I think it will be a good experience for him, considering—”

“Your son…?” Phlox interrupted. Now she smiled, no warmth in her burgundy lips. “Surely you realize that
this
is a zombie. He's no more your s—”

“Mom,” Oliver barked, embarrassed by her tone. “
This
is Dean's mom and she's important to him.”

Phlox looked at Oliver, her expression blank, and yet, no matter what her opinion of humans, she had to obey Oliver's wishes when it came to how Dean was treated. Masters made the rules for their servants, so if Oliver said that Tammy was important, Phlox had to respect that.

“Well then, isn't it nice to meet you?” Phlox smiled wide, revealing the points of her teeth. “We're glad to have Dean along.” She returned most of her attention to her earring.

Tammy looked like she might be sick, but she managed to rub Dean's matted hair with a shaking hand. “Have a good trip, Dean.”

“Thanks, Mom. See ya.” Dean stepped in and closed the door, then turned to Oliver. “Shall I take your bag upstairs, master?”

Oliver almost smiled, but then played along. “Oh, yeah, right. Please do.”

He followed Dean upstairs, past the kitchen and into the abandoned house that concealed their underground home. Dean placed Oliver's suitcase with the other bags near the front door, by the fake hole in the floor.

“I'm really glad you're coming along,” Oliver said. “My family's going to make me insane, and not in the good way.”

“Things haven't gotten any better with them,” Dean observed.

“Worse,” Oliver replied. “Come on, I'll tell you on the roof.” Oliver crossed the decrepit room, passing the bathtub full of putrid water. He stepped through a large gap in the wall that looked as if it had been gnawed away by an enormous creature, exposing the rotting, splintered beams. On the other side was a sopping couch, a moldy rug, and a crumbling stone fireplace.

Oliver ducked into the fireplace and stood in the narrow space. He put his hands on the walls for guidance, felt for the forces, and began to rise up the chimney. He had just started learning to levitate at the end of the school year, but he could only do it in tight spaces like this where you only had to control the forces in a small area. Real levitation in open air would still take a while.

He rose up into the evening and pulled himself out of the chimney, then hopped onto the sagging roof and sat atop the loose shingles. Dean clambered up moments later. It was close to ten and the sun had just set beyond the Olympic Mountains. A brushstroke of pink tinged the snowcapped peaks and the edges of the wispy clouds. Below, the vibrant green was draining out of the neighborhood as shadows spread and porch lights clicked on. Oliver saw the flicker of the first bat among the branches of a tall cedar tree beside the house. It dove down into the swarm of insects around a brightening streetlight, feasting.

“Listen…” Oliver began once Dean was seated beside him. He recounted the conversation he'd overheard between his parents and Tyrus.

“Um, that's not good,” said Dean. “So you're saying … you think that because you've had the problems sleeping, and at school, and now hanging out with Emalie, that your parents and Half-Light think you can't fulfill the prophecy?”

“That's what it sounded like. Like I'm screwed up, broken … whatever.”

Oliver hoped that Dean would tell him that it sounded ridiculous, but instead he nodded. “That's possible, I guess. So what do we do?”

Oliver threw up his hands. “I don't know! What can we do? Go on vacation, wait around until my dad comes after me with this Stiletto thing.…”

“Well, should we run away or something? We could take off—”

“And go where?” Oliver shook his head. The thought had crossed his mind, but it didn't make sense. What would they do once they'd run? And how far could they get?

“This may sound crazy,” Dean continued, picking at a loose piece of green skin on his arm, “but did you ever think of
asking
them what's going on?”

Oliver just shrugged. The thought made him feel ill. “Why? If that really was their plan, they wouldn't tell me, would they?”

“Guess not.”

“And we have to help Emalie find this Selene person.”

“That will be hard if you're turned to dust.”

“Yeah, well…” Oliver didn't know what else to say. “That's all I've got right now. We'll just have to keep our guard up, and figure out something.”

They turned at the sound of screeching tires and saw a taxi careening up Twilight Lane. It halted in front of the house, and the gaunt driver, Miles Frisht, stepped out, adjusting his cockeyed cowboy hat and popping the trunk. The door squealed open below and Sebastian and Bane appeared, hauling the family's bags. A moment later, Phlox rushed out with a stuffed shoulder bag, wearing a black satin dress that matched Sebastian's black suit and coat. Vampires always dressed nicely for travel. Oliver and even Bane had to wear pressed pants and their long black coats.

Sebastian dumped the bags in the trunk and checked his pocket watch. “Let's go, you two!” he called to the roof.

Oliver and Dean leaped down to the yard, then stuffed themselves into the backseat with Phlox and Bane, who turned up his nose as Dean squished in beside him.

“Man, wash your mongrel, lamb!”

“Shut up,” Oliver huffed.

“Boys,” Phlox hissed, finally directing some frustration at Bane. “You will behave in public.”

Minutes later, they were lugging their bags down two nonworking escalators and into the grimy abandoned bus tunnel downtown. In the shadows stood four sets of gleaming gold elevator doors. Other vampires lurked about in the dank station, waiting, many dressed for work and carrying purses and briefcases.

The Nocturnes crowded into a teeming elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed, it dropped at near free-fall speed, slowed at the last second, then opened to the charion transit hub, on the bottom floor of the underground center.

The station was alive at the start of the night, well-dressed vampires rushing importantly toward the many entryways to charion platforms. There were long lines at the antique ticket booths. A large display high on one wall listed the arrivals and departures in bright orange. Every minute, the letters and numbers snuffed out like fires, then relit with updated information.

Oliver stared up at the giant route map on the ceiling and felt a rush of excitement. Lines of glowing magmalight connected golden etchings that represented stations around the world. He loved the possibility of the map: all those places you could go. He traced the different routes: Seattle to Playa Del Fuego, an Underworld city beneath Los Angeles; to Naraka, the second-largest Underworld city, beneath Hong Kong; to Reykjavík, which was a popular vacation spot in the fall and winter, and on and on.

“Oliver,” Dean called. Oliver saw that his family and Dean had made their way to the enormous café that dominated one whole side of the station. Its large green sign would have been familiar to any human, but not the drinks on the menu: In each case, milk had been replaced with different bloods (one notable exception was at holiday time, when vampires went crazy for eggnog). While his parents ordered, Oliver joined Dean beside a tall shelf of specially designed coffee and espresso machines that infused blood during the traditional brewing. Beside that was a display of Eternal Dark Roast coffee beans, which were blended with cayenne peppers.

Soon the Nocturnes were walking toward their train platform with foot-tall cups: Phlox with a triple-shot nonfat raptor-blend latte, Bane with a six-shot hellcat frozen drink, Oliver and Dean each with a quad mocha rouge, and Sebastian with a taller, very thin cup that held his five shots of espresso diablo.

They entered the domed tunnel to a Charion platform, feeling the rumble of arriving and departing trains in the walls and floor. The platform was crowded with other travelers. Kids scrambled about on the walls between long video screens, thin as fabric, which hung down from the ceiling and blinked with advertisements.

Soon a low, humming vibration rose up Oliver's legs all the way to his teeth, and his ears started to ache as the pressure dropped sharply. There was a rush of warm air, and everyone turned expectantly toward the clear plastic tube beside the platform.

A cylindrical charion rocketed into the station. The moment it halted, the tube filled with black smoke. As the train's pulsing engines cycled down to a low hum, panels of the tube slid open, and giant fans in the ceiling rumbled to life, sucking the black smoke upward. The train's silver sides were charred. Large embers and chunks of molten rock tumbled off it, carving tracks through a gray film on the train's surface. The film looked like ash, but was really frost that had formed on the super cooled exterior.

The charion doors hissed open, and passengers filed out of the low-lit interior.

“Oliver, over here,” Phlox said, motioning toward the nearest doorway as if Oliver was in danger of missing the train when he was only two feet away.

“I'm right here,” Oliver grumbled. This was how Phlox always got when they were traveling. She wouldn't relax until they'd arrived where they were going, whereas Oliver found the traveling the most relaxing part, especially given what might await him at their destination.

The Nocturnes stepped into the train, and the echoing clatter of the platform was replaced by carpeted quiet, with the gentle stringed music of the
Melancholia
drifting through the air. They filed down the aisle, past leather seats arranged in pairs. Phlox and Sebastian took one set, Dean and Oliver the next. Bane lounged across the two behind them.

“What are these?” Dean asked. On the back of the seats in front of them were a series of brass valves. Red tubes led from these valves back up to the ceiling.

“That's dinner,” Oliver replied. “There's a menu in the magazine.”

The train filled quickly, crowding with families desperate to escape the sun. Oliver smiled when an old woman asked for one of Bane's free seats and he had to give it up with a sulking huff.

“Attention, please,” a deep female voice intoned over the speaker system. “Charion transit line B now departing for New York City and connections to Morosia and Naraka. Welcome aboard.”

The doors slid closed, and there was a sharp sucking sound that made Oliver's ears compress again.

“Ow,” said Dean, wincing and holding his ears.

“The train just pressurized,” explained Oliver. There was a quiet murmur of anticipation among the passengers, the volume of the
Melancholia
increased slightly, and then with no warning, the charion rocketed forward. It rumbled, vibrating left and right, then suddenly smoothed out. “That's the magnets kicking in,” Oliver added.

There were no windows on the train, but plasma panels shimmered to life on the walls. A map appeared, showing the curve of the earth, seen in a cross-section. A dot at one end showed Seattle. There was one in the middle for New York, at the highest point of the curve, and then one on the far right for Morosia. The charion line was drawn in yellow and looked like a very shallow U between Seattle and New York, and then again between New York and Morosia. At the lowest curve of each U, the line shaded to red.

“See where the line changes color?” Oliver pointed for Dean. “That's where the train passes through the mantle of the earth. It's cool what happens then.”

It took five hours to get to New York. Oliver and Dean spent a while playing video games on screens built into the seats in front of them. The attendants passed out goblets and plates of chocolate to everyone, and they dined from the blood valves.

“They're probably not going to come around with brains, or intestine pâté, or anything.…” Dean mused, looking hungrily at his goblet.

“Sorry,” Oliver replied.

After dinner, the charion lights were dimmed and everyone began falling asleep. Oliver reached under his seat into his carry-on bag and pulled out his blanket, as most passengers were doing. The blanket was made of two layers of extra-fine satin. The space between was filled with coffin soil. Every vampire had their own unique sleeping soil in their blanket, since vampires had different preferences for things like soil humidity and weight. Some even added bugs or worms—their crawling could create a massaging effect—but Oliver hadn't.