Vampire Affliction (5 page)

“Oh, Diane, please, sit down with me here on the sofa and tell me all about it,” Mamá said, putting an arm around her friend and sitting close beside her.

Gertie was astounded by the thoughts running through each woman’s mind. Mamá was beyond worried, in a near state of panic, and on the verge of leading an army to destroy every vampire in sight in order to save Gertie and bring her home.

Gertie’s mother’s thoughts were mixed and more complicated. She was frightened but resigned. She’d never really allowed herself to consider Gertie hers.

What?
Gertie tried to dig further into her mother’s thoughts. Without eye contact, it was difficult to get past all the swirling ideas—everything from
this room is so small and this couch is so uncomfortable
to
is that a roach on the ceiling?

“Why would my mother never allow herself to think of me as her daughter?” Gertie muttered. “That makes no sense.”

“I thought he would claim her by now,” Gertie’s mother said. “Why hasn’t he come forward? Has he forgotten, do you think?”

“Who can tell the intentions of the gods?” Mamá said.

Klaus and Nikita exchanged looks of surprise, but both refrained from asking the question that had popped into each of their minds:
Gertie is the daughter of a god?

Gertie’s own mind was spinning now. “I think I’m going to be sick. Do vampires vomit?”

“Not usually, I don’t think.” Jeno tightened his hold on her.

“Why would he command me to return her before her eighteenth birthday only to allow her to become a vampire?” her mother asked.

Her mother knew she was a vampire?

“What have I done, Marta?” Gertie’s mother sank into the sofa and covered her face.

“This isn’t your fault,” Mamá said. “You did what you thought was best. He told you to send her here, no?”

“That’s what he said.” Gertie’s mother broke into tears. “That was seventeen years ago. Maybe he’s forgotten. Maybe I was a fool to believe his threats.”

Babá cleared his throat. “I’m going to take the kids around the corner for some yogurt.”

“It’s too dangerous at this time of night,” Mamá objected.

“I’ll be careful. Children, get your coats.”

“No, I’m the one who should leave,” Gertie’s mother said. “I’ll go back to my hotel.”

“I wish you would stay here with us,” Mamá said.

Gertie’s mother stood up and went to the door. “Nonsense. I don’t want to impose.”

Her mother’s real reason for not wanting to stay was that she was too repulsed to sleep in the tiny, roach-infested apartment.

“No need to go so soon, Diane,” Babá insisted. “The children and I will be fine just around the corner. It’s dark but early yet.”

Diane moved away from the door as Babá led all three kids from the apartment. Gertie held her breath and watched the steps in front of their apartment building. Unable to resist, she flew down to the street and waited.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jeno came up behind her.

“No. But I want to say hello.”

Nikita was the first to notice her as they descended the steps toward the sidewalk. “Gertie?” She ran down the remaining steps and practically knocked Gertie over, the same way she had done in the station the evening they had first met.

Gertie was filled with joy, and she hugged Nikita close to her and kissed the side of her cheek. The aroma of her blood filled Gertie’s nostrils, but she ignored it to relish in the delight of being with her best friend—her sister.

“Nikita, no!” Babá cried. In a few moments he was at her side, pulling her away from Gertie. “She’s changed. We can no longer trust her.”

“That’s not true.” Gertie clung to Nikita’s hands. “I haven’t changed, really. I’m the same person on the inside.” She pulled Nikita close to her again. “I miss you. All of you.” Tears welled in her eyes. She could see them in Nikita’s too.

Babá grabbed Nikita’s arm and pulled her away. Gertie was tempted to use mind control to keep them there with her, but she was afraid it would backfire as it had the last time she had tried it on them. Babá’s mind was full of fear. He was terrified for his family and terrified of her and Jeno, and she didn’t want to add to those fears.

“I’m sorry,” Gertie said to him. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Babá.”

He averted his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Gertie blanched. Mortified that the man she thought of as a father could be so harsh, she took a step back and glanced up at Klaus, who stood beside Phoebe on the front steps. Klaus’s mind was also full of fear—and also of a deep hatred directed at Jeno.

“I miss you, too,” Nikita said through her tears as Babá dragged her away. “And don’t worry,” she called out. “Hector will help you. Your mother is here, and she’s…”

“Enough, Nikita!” Babá demanded as they turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

But Gertie could still hear their thoughts, and Nikita’s were hopeful. She had faith that Hector and the other demigods would save her.

Gertie felt the blood from her recent feeding rush to her cheeks as she turned to Jeno. “I don’t want to be saved,” she reminded him.

“That won’t stop them from trying.”

She read his thoughts of betrayal by a family he had once risked his life to help. At Marta’s pleading, Jeno had changed her dying two-year old, Damien, into a vampire, even though Jeno had tried to talk her out of it. Not only had they felt no gratitude for Jeno, but now they wanted his father dead.

Gertie tried to think of something comforting to say.

“Don’t even try. Let’s go.”

Gertie flew up to the window once more to look in at Mamá and her mother. She had once believed that seeing her mother might make her feel differently about wanting to live with the Angelis family, but it didn’t—though reading her mother’s mind took the edge off of Gertie’s feelings of abandonment. Her mother had never allowed herself to think of Gertie as her own. The man Gertie had believed was her father wasn’t. That explained so much—their self-absorbed lives hadn’t been a consequence of Gertie’s un-lovability or of her parents’ disappointment in her. It had more to do with their own perception of themselves as temporary caretakers. But it also created new questions, and Diane’s complicated and confused mind answered none of them.

Gertie left the window feeling even worse than she had felt when she had first looked in.

No, that wasn’t exactly true. The hug from Nikita had filled Gertie with enough joy to make the whole horrible night worth it.

Plus she had learned something important about herself.

She was the daughter of a god. That was so hard to comprehend. Nikita had once said that most humans were descendants of gods, so it was just a matter of the degree of separation. From what Gertie had read, Prometheus, one of the Titans had made humankind out of clay. Nikita had said that, while that was true, the gods didn’t seem able to resist mating with mortals, so most people had a bit of the divine running through them. What made a human a demigod was having a
parent
who was a god. Those with a divine grandparent may have some special talents, but they weren’t considered demigods and didn’t serve with Hector and the others as warriors for the Olympians.

Gertie struggled with the news that she was a demigod, that her actual father was an actual god. Which one? Her mother didn’t seem to know.

As she and Jeno flew across the sea toward Alexander, she tried to think of any characteristics she possessed that might hint at the identity of her father, but she could think of none. She loved to read, loved to learn about mythology and lore, kept to herself, was not quick to make friends, and was pretty much a loner and an outsider. She had no special talents. She wasn’t artistic, couldn’t sing, couldn’t heal (like Hector), wasn’t particularly strong or fast or athletic (before becoming a vampire), and had no affinity for the water (like Percy Jackson). Gertie didn’t possess a single special quality.

That’s not true
. Jeno said in her mind.
Your love and compassion set you apart.

“Thank you, Jeno.” She kissed his cheek. “But that doesn’t help, unless Aphrodite is my father.”

Jeno chuckled and squeezed her hand.

Maybe Gertie’s father was just some jerk who had tricked her mother into believing he was a god. But then why would he tell her she’d have to return Gertie to Greece before her eighteenth birthday?

When they arrived at the island south of Athens, they found an amazing sight. In the middle of a circle of at least two hundred vampires, a golden ram stood with a troupe of women and satyrs. The vampires’ prayers had been answered: their lord had come.

Chapter Seven: The Dance

Gertie followed Jeno to his father’s side within the circle of vampires gathered around their lord, Dionysus. The Maenads and satyrs were quiet and still as they listened to the booming voice emanating from the golden ram.

“I hear the cries of the disenfranchised,” the god said. “I am nothing if not the god of the exiled. It has been my great hope to one day usher the children of the night into liberty. We will begin tonight.”

The crowd roared with excitement but quieted down again when the Maenads lifted their pine-cone-tipped torches. Gertie recognized Jeno’s mother among the leather-clad Maenads. Her dark hair was thick and fluffy, like Jeno’s, but even longer and wilder, like a shaggy black carpet draped over her head and down her back. Her dark eyes were fierce and without emotion or recognition. Gertie squeezed Jeno’s hands as she read the flood of memories his mother’s presence brought to him.

“We will invade Athens tonight,” the god continued. “Let it be understood that we must start by increasing our army. You, my children of the night, must make more vampires.”

Gertie whispered, “That won’t solve anything. It will only get us all killed.”

The golden ram turned in her direction, as though he had heard her. Gertie held her breath.

“Do I sense a dissenter among you?” Dionysus demanded.

He
had
heard her. She wished she could disappear.

“Come forward, then, and state your objection so that
all
can hear.”

Gertie clung to Jeno. “I don’t want to. Help me. Say something.”

Jeno moved forward in her place to face the golden ram in the center of the circle. “I meant no disrespect, my lord.”

“You are not the one whose voice I heard. Bring the girl to me.”

Gertie wanted to run when Jeno turned to her with frightened eyes, but she moved to the center of the crowd to stand beside Jeno before the enormous golden ram.

“What’s your name?” the god asked.

“Gertrude Morgan.”

“And what is your objection?”

She shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. “I don’t believe the other gods will respond the way you think they will to an increased number of vampires.”

“No? And your belief is based on what? You have a relationship with the gods? Or you can read their minds, little vampire?”

Snickering burst out among the crowd.

“No. Nothing like that.”

Say “my lord” when you speak to him,
Jeno advised.

I can’t. It doesn’t feel right.

“Then what?” Dionysus asked.

“Well, I’ve read lots of stories about them.”

“Stories?” the ram laughed. “She’s read stories.”

More laughter rang out.

“Written by Homer and Euripides,” she added quickly, trying to defend herself. She hated being laughed at. “Stories about great gods and great heroes, including stories about you. And I’m telling you I may be just a
little vampire
, but even I can see that your plan is wrong. The gods will feel justified in destroying us if we go against their laws and increase our number. They already hate us and are looking for a reason to exterminate us from the earth. Just look at what Athena did at the acropolis.”

An explosion of murmurs shot from the crowd until the Maenads lifted their pine-cone-tipped torches. The other vampires hadn’t heard that Athena had been behind the destruction of their homes.

“If we want change, we need leverage,” Gertie said.

The golden ram took several heavy steps in the sand toward her, so that she stood directly beneath him. He sniffed her and said, “And how do you suppose we gain leverage?”

“We take something important from them as a bargaining tool—at least, that’s how it’s done in the stories.”

Gertie had been so nervous that she’d been unable to read any of the thoughts of those around her, including Jeno’s. She took in a deep breath and tried to control her shaky hands and limbs. Despite her anxiety, she had no regrets. It felt good to stand up and speak her mind. She knew she was right. She only hoped she could be taken seriously enough to convince the others.

“Who is your father?” Dionysus asked.

Gertie hung her head, her feelings of confidence diminishing. “I don’t know.”

After a few moments of painful silence, the golden ram said, “Yes. The little vampire is right.”

Gertie turned to Jeno, who smiled back at her. She could now read his thoughts of relief as he threw his arms around her and kissed the side of her face. He had been worried that Gertie would be ripped apart by the Maenads as punishment for contradicting the god. He took her hand and kissed it.

“We need leverage,” Dionysus said. “As I consider what that will be, let’s celebrate the beginning of our uprising with a dance. Drink my wine, children of the night! For, though it will not quench your thirst and give you sustenance like blood, it will liberate you from your current anxiety and purge you of grief. Satyrs! Play upon your pipes! Maenads! Pass around the golden cups!”

Within seconds, the beach thundered with the vigorous music of the satyrs, who hopped from hoof to hoof as they played, turning in circles and engaging the vampires in their dance. Jeno pulled Gertie away from the center of the circle, but Gertie resisted.

“Let’s have fun,” she said. “I want to dance in the crowd for a change.”

“You don’t dance, remember?” he said, his memories of the fall dance washing over her.

“You’re a good enough dancer for both of us,
remember
?”

Jeno smiled. “As you wish, but don’t drink the wine, okay?”

“Why not? It won’t turn me into a…”

“Vampires aren’t affected that way.”

“Then what’s the harm in one sip?”

He raked his hand through his thick hair—a gesture she’d seen his father do. “Nothing, as long as one sip doesn’t become several cups.”

Gertie laughed and shook her head. “Another lecture about being a responsible vampire. What are you? My father?”

“No. But I might just have to spank you.” He gave her a wicked smile that filled her with happiness.

Before she could think of a reply, a satyr handed her a goblet. She took a sip and passed it to Jeno, who did the same. One sip was all it took to make her head spin. Suddenly, she was a little girl, alone in her backyard behind her parents’ giant mansion, spinning round and round, arms out, like the propellers of a helicopter.

When books hadn’t been enough to exorcise her demons, she’d spin and spin until she fell down in the grass and watched the world revolving around her.

She fell on the sand and gazed at the stars, spinning above her in the sky. They moved so fast they resembled comets. Her mother used to say the world didn’t revolve around Gertie. What a mean thing to say to a child she rarely spent time with. But Gertie would run out to the backyard and spin and spin and then laugh at the proof in the sky: the world
did
revolve around Gertie. And it revolved around her now.

She was overcome with laughter, from deep behind her diaphragm. It shook her like a carnival ride. Life could be so ridiculous. The world was so ridiculous. Everyone was mad and everything was nonsensical. Who cared about this world? She didn’t. Let her get lost in a glass of wine!

No! She meant
book
. She laughed at herself. Not a glass of wine, a book! Let her get lost in a book. Isn’t that what she did? Isn’t that how she coped with being unloved by her parents? Isn’t that how she dealt with feeling like an outsider in her own school? Books had become her liberation, her ecstasy, her wine!

She sat up, suddenly sobered, and scanned the beach for Jeno. He was dancing with his mother and father! His mother was still clearly unaware of their relationship to her, but the father and son seemed not to care. They wore smiles of glee, and in their drunken stupor, were, at least temporarily, happy.

Gertie resisted the urge to run to them and break them from their reverie with the news of her revelation. She knew who her father was—at least she had a very strong suspicion. In fact, as the music resounded and the world continued to spin, she had a strange vision of him protecting her with his thick golden vines. But now that she knew, did she want anyone else to know?