They Come by Night (22 page)

“Ye—” I swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“I hope you never need be protected by her, but….”

“If
Ȋnger Păzitors
are for our protection, why didn’t my uncle’s save him?”

“That….” He shook his head. “When your uncle’s vampyr did what she did, it weakened the bond between sabor and
Ȋnger Păzitor
.”

“So the dog just left him?” At least he didn’t put all the blame on Uncle Phil. I’d been all set to tell him it took two to tango and my uncle hadn’t been in that bed alone.

“No. She would have curled into a ball and grieved herself to death.”

No wonder Uncle Phil was so sad. He’d not only lost his vampyr but his
Ȋnger Păzitor
as well. My stomach felt as if the bottom had fallen out. “Would that happen to Mina?”

“Yes, I’m afraid. So you see, it behooves you to have a care for yourself.”

I stared at him blindly and shivered. I’d only had her for a month, but the thought she’d grieve herself to death because of me… she was so little.

“Wait a second. You said my uncle’s dog
would have
. So she didn’t die of grief because my uncle fell in love with a vampyr. What happened to her?”

“The vampyr who came after broke her neck. You see, in spite of everything, she still attempted to protect her sabor.”

I couldn’t help shivering again. Mina might be willing to face someone who threatened me—I didn’t find that hard to believe, since she had a dauntless little heart, but if it resulted in her death, how could I live with that?

“Do you understand now why you have to be careful?”

“Yes, I understand.” For Mina, because she loved me. For the vampyr community, because they needed me. I blinked and refocused on him. He was eyeing me thoughtfully, and abruptly I remembered my manners. “Can I get you something?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Coffee? Hot cocoa? It’s nippy outside.”

“No, thank you.”

“All right, then. I’m sorry, I don’t have any blood on hand. I mean….” The blood I did have on hand rushed to my face and heated it, but he just smiled kindly. What else did I have to offer him? “Beer, wine, soda?”

“You’re underage.”

“It was here when I got here.” I gestured toward the cabinet that contained the sum total of my wine stock.

“Ah. I see.” He wandered over to it and hummed in approval. “Adam has left you nicely stocked.”

“Um… can you drink? I mean not just blood, but beer or wine or soda?”

“In moderation, as with all things. Thank you, Tyrell. I believe I’ll have this Dominus red.” He set about opening it with a corkscrew I didn’t even realize I had.

“Okay.” I went to the kitchen, ditched the garlic and washed my hands, and took a couple of glasses down from the cabinet next to the fridge. I filled them both with ice from the ice maker in the freezer door and poured some Coke into mine.

I returned to the great room. “Here you go, sir.” I handed a glass to Mr. Mondragon. I’d never even referred to my teachers as “sir,” but for some reason, that seemed the best way to address him. There was something about him that made me hesitant to even think of addressing him by his first name.

“Thank you.” He looked around.

“Problem?”

“Red wine isn’t drunk on ice.”

I felt my face heating up again. “Sorry,” I mumbled. I took the glass from him, returned to the kitchen, dumped out the ice cubes, and brought it back. “Sorry,” I repeated.

“You’re very young.”

I couldn’t quarrel with him over that. I was eighteen, and he was… what? A million?

He took the glass and poured some of the bloodred wine into it. “Sit down, won’t you? There’s much I need to tell you.”

“Finally!”

He gave me a look, and I subsided and sank down on the love seat. He stood before me, the glass in his long, elegant fingers…. Oh, crap, I wasn’t falling in love with him, was I?

“You needn’t fear, Tyrell. You’re not. Although I do wonder why.”

“Huh? You can read my mind?”

“Your face is very expressive. And considering what occurred here earlier, I’m not at all surprised you’re uneasy.”

“Uneasy? Is that what you call it?” But I noticed he didn’t answer my question.

“De Vivar has always been inclined to act first and question those actions afterward. This is why he was not given permission to approach you. If he’d done the opposite with regards to your uncle—”

“He was the one who hurt Uncle Phil? Dammit, I wish I’d—”

“There is nothing you could have done, Tyrell. De Vivar isn’t ancient as vampyrs go, but he’s powerful enough that he would have crushed you.”

“He could have tried,” I said with all the bravado I could muster.

“Ah, my young sabor, I’m afraid he would have succeeded.”

“This is your fault too.” I scowled at him. “If you hadn’t destroyed Vidalia—”

“Why would we destroy one of our own?”

“You didn’t? But Uncle Phil said…. Why would he say that if it hadn’t happened?”

Mr. Mondragon sighed. “Obviously he was lied to. Vidalia was simply ordered to Europe. The last thing we wanted was to lose a vampyr who showed such great promise.”

“So she gets off scot-free, but because my uncle isn’t a virgin any longer, he’s still paying for what they did? Did you even know he’d pretty much shredded his arms to deal with not being able to feed a vampyr?”

His gaze became somber. “We had no idea how he would deal with that—this had never happened before. And then he went to ground and we were unable to contact him—”

I interrupted without compunction. “He was in Clewiston until two years ago. And what would you have told him? Come home, all is forgiven?”

“No, but we would have told him there were other things he could do.” He shook his head.

“Yeah? Such as?”

“He could have sired other sabors. Because of de Vivar’s precipitate action, Phillip Small may well be lost to us forever.”

I was about to tell him the vampyr community deserved to have lost him when my brain caught up with his previous words. “Wait! I didn’t know sabors could have children.”

“Not in the general course of events. Normally, a single sabor is born into each saborese family every generation. Occasionally, when a sabor outgrows his or her—”

“Usefulness?”

“I was going to say their ability to function as a—”

“Lower rung of the food chain?”

“Tyrell, cease! Sabors are highly valued. They always have been. Before the Black Plague, when it became necessary to share this treasure, royal families each had their own. Phillip Small would have been given the opportunity to wed a day watcher—”

“A
what
?”

He didn’t answer my question. He did that a lot, I noticed.

“He could start his own family, thereby expanding the gene pool. Both communities would have profited from the children he would have sired.” He stared down at me. “As I said, your bloodline—on both sides—is valuable to us. We never thought to see the day when they would produce offspring… Saborese generally mate with normals, although they breed true—the gene is passed on to their children.”

“What are we, breeding stock?” I was being bombarded with too much information all at once, and I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. My head was seriously starting to ache.

“Tyrell, each of us are who we are.”

There was that destiny crap again. I could have said, “Yeah, but you’re a vampyr and my people are who you feed from,” but why bother? He
was
a vampyr, and I was a sabor, and there was nothing I could do about either of those facts.

He sat beside me and stroked my shoulder, obviously trying to calm me. While it felt nice, it wasn’t as nice as when Adam did it. “We almost lost your mother’s line entirely,” he said. “We thought the original incident was a one-off, so to speak.”

“Original incident?” This time I did say, “You’re giving me a headache.”

Cool fingers rested under my chin, tipping it up. “What did your father tell you of your mother’s people?”

“Nothing.” I cracked open an eye and peered at him. “I could see it made him sad to talk about her, so I never asked.”

He frowned. “That was not well done of him.”

All thoughts of having a headache vanished, as well as possibly being attracted to this vampyr. “Listen, you!” I snarled. “Don’t you say anything bad about my father,
ever
! He’s a good man, and he raised me the best he could!”

“I don’t doubt that. I’m just afraid his best wasn’t good enough.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m withdrawing my invitation to come into my house. Get out!”

“Tyrell.” He set aside his glass. He’d hardly touched the wine. “What was your mother’s name?”

I stared at him blankly. “Magdalena.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What was her family’s name?”

“Uh….” I had no idea.

“There was a good deal he couldn’t tell you about sabors, but he
should
have told you about your bloodline.”

“And you’re going to tell me?” I didn’t care how sulky or sullen I sounded. I didn’t need him telling me anything. I might not know my mother’s last name, but I knew about her and about my brothers and sisters.

When I was eight, I’d learned what Pandora’s box looked like. It was five inches by eight by four, and the scent of cedar rose from it when it was opened.

And inside, it held four birth certificates, a handful of photos, and a six-hour VHS tape.

“I’
VE
GOT
a union meeting tonight, Ty.” Dad was putting my dinner on the table. He had changed into jeans, a button-down shirt, and loafers. “Mary Jo will be here in a few minutes—”

“Is Jimmy coming with her?”

“I’m sure he is.” He ruffled my hair and smiled down at me. I didn’t know in a couple of years he wouldn’t be able to do that, as much as he might want to. “Now, I know I don’t have to tell you to behave.”

“No, Dad.”

“Good boy. Put the dishes in the sink when you’re done, and make sure you finish all your homework. And you can stay up half an hour later than usual.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

There was a tap on the back door, and Dad went to answer it.

“Hi, Mr. Small.”

“Hello, Mary Jo. Hi, Jimmy. There’s ice cream in the freezer—”

“Chocolate?”

I ducked my head so my friend wouldn’t see me grinning. That was Jimmy’s favorite flavor.

“Yes, and there’s chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and cherries.”

“Thanks, Mr. Small.” Mary Jo put her books down—she’d do her homework while Jimmy and I did ours and then watched some TV—and propped her hands on her hips. “I’ll make sure they don’t make little piggies of themselves.”

“Aw, gee, M. J.!” Jimmy glared up at his big sister. “We’re not babies!”

“No, you’re not,” Dad agreed. “Just remember, she’s the boss while I’m gone.”

“Yes, sir.” Jimmy knew better than to say anything else. Instead, he peered at my dinner plate. “Whatcha eating, Ty?”

“Hot dogs,” I mumbled around a big bite. I liked chocolate ice cream with syrup, whipped cream, and cherries too—I’d already taken my lactase supplement—and I knew if I wanted any I’d better hurry up and finish dinner.

“My mom doesn’t make ’em that way.”

“Try a bite. It’s really good! Dad tops them with salsa, chorizo, and lots of shredded cheese.”

“Chor-what?”

“It’s a Spanish sausage.”

“Uh… no, thanks. I ate before we came.”

“Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing!”

“All right, I’ve got to be going.” Dad tugged a lock of my hair. “Mary Jo, you know where all the phone numbers are.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not expecting any packages, so please don’t open the door to anyone.”

I looked up at Dad. He’d never been worried to leave me with M. J. before. Come to think of it, he’d seemed really on edge the past few days, ever since we’d visited Uncle Phil.

“It’s okay, Mr. Small.” M. J. smiled at him. “We’ll be fine.”

“All right. I’ll be back about ten thirty. Be good, boys.”

“We will, Mr. Small.”

“Yes, Dad. Bye.”

A
FTER
WE
finished our homework, and with the empty ice cream bowls soaking in the sink, Jimmy decided he wanted to play explorer.

“There’s nowhere to explore here,” I protested. I loved this house, but the rooms on the first floor opened into each other, and there were only the two bedrooms upstairs, plus the bathrooms that adjoined them.

“Yes, there is! The attic!”

“Why? It’s dark up there.” I only went there after Thanksgiving to help Dad bring the decorations and lights and stuff downstairs, and then after the end of the Christmas holidays on January 7—Dad told me that was Romanian tradition—to take them back up. There was enough light during the day, but at night there was only a single lightbulb, and it didn’t cast much light.

“Cool! We can play monsters as well!”

“You’re nuts, Jimmy! You’re my friend, but you’re nuts!”

“Listen, you two. I’ve got to study for a trig exam. Go play. Just don’t kill yourselves.”

“Come on, Ty! Don’t be a scaredy-cat! Please? Please, please, please, please, please!”

“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly. Then I muttered, “But you better not let the monsters get me!”

Jimmy followed me up the stairs to the second floor. He went to a hallway door and pulled it open. “Hey, where are the stairs to the attic?” It was the linen closet.

“There’s a hatch in the closet in my dad’s bedroom.”

“Really? Whoa, that is so awesome! At my house we just have to open a door and climb the stairs.”