Bone Crossed

So I rode in the trunk of Corban’s car all the way to Spokane. When the car slowed and left the smooth growl of the interstate for the stop and go of city traffic, I straightened my clothes. My fingers touched a stick ... the silver-and-wood staff was tucked under my cheek. I stroked it because it made me feel better.

“You’d better hide yourself, my pretty,” I murmured in a fake pirate accent. “Or you’ll be put in his treasure room and never let see the light of day.”

Something under my ear chimed, we took a hard corner, and I lost track of where the staff was. I hoped it had listened to me and left. It wouldn’t be much help against a vampire, and I didn’t want it to come to harm while it was in my care.

“Now you’re talking to inanimate objects,” I said out loud. “And believing they are listening to you. Get a grip, Mercy.”

The car slowed to a crawl, then stopped. I heard the clang of chain and metal on pavement, then the car moved slowly forward. It sounded like Blackwood’s gates were a little more upscale than Marsilia’s. Did vampires worry about things like that?

I rolled up, crossed my legs, and bent over until my chin rested on my heels. When Corban opened the trunk, I simply sat up. It must have looked as though I’d been doing it all along. I hoped that it would draw his attention away from the contents of the trunk, so he wouldn’t notice the staff. If it was still in there at all.

“Blackwood has Chad?” I asked him.

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Look,” I said, climbing out of the trunk with less grace than I’d planned. Damned Taser or stun gun or whatever it had been. “We don’t have much time. I need to know what the situation is. You said he had Chad. Exactly what did he tell you to do? Did he tell you why he wanted me?”

“He has Chad,” Corban said. He closed his eyes, and his face flushed red—like a weight lifter after a great effort. His voice came slowly. “I get you when you are alone. No one around. Not your roommate. Not your boyfriend. He would tell me when. I bring you back. My son lives.”

“What does he want me for?” I asked, while still absorbing that Blackwood had known when I was alone. I couldn’t believe someone could have been following me—even if I hadn’t detected them, there was still Adam and Samuel.

He shook his head. “Don’t know.” He reached out and grabbed my wrist. “I have to take you now.”

“Fine,” I said, and my heart rate doubled. Even now, I thought with a quick glance at the gate and the ten-foot stone walls. Even now I could break away and run. But there was Chad.

“Mercy,” he said, forcing his voice. “One more thing. He wanted me to tell you about Chad. So you would come.”

Just because you knew it was a trap didn’t mean you could stay out if the bait was good enough. With a ragged sigh, I decided that one deaf boy with the courage to face down a ghost should inspire me to a tenth of his courage.

My course laid out, I took a good look at the geography of Blackwood’s trap for me. It was dark, but I can see in the dark.

Blackwood’s house was smaller than Adam’s, smaller even than Amber’s, though it was meticulously crafted out of warm-colored stone. The grounds encompassed maybe five or six acres of what had once been a garden of roses. But it had been a few years since any gardener had touched these.

He would have another house, I thought. One suitably grand with a professional garden and lawn service that kept it beautiful. There he would receive his business guests.

This place, with its neglected and overgrown gardens, was his home. What did it tell me about him? Other than that he liked quality over size and preferred privacy to beauty or order.

The walls surrounding the grounds were older than the house, made of quarried stone and hand laid without mortar. The gate was wrought iron and ornate. His house wasn’t really small—it just looked undersized for the presentation it was given. Doubtless the house it had replaced had been huge and better suited to the property, if not to the vampire.

Corban paused in front of the door. “Run if you can,” he said. “It isn’t right ... not your problem.”

“Blackwood has made it my problem,” I told him. I walked in front of him and pushed open the door. “Hey, honey, I’m home,” I announced in my best fifties-movie-starlet voice. Kyle, I felt, would have approved of the voice, but not the wardrobe. My shirt was going on a day and a half, the jeans ... I didn’t remember how long I’d been wearing the jeans. Not much longer than the shirt.

The entryway was empty. But not for long.

“Mercedes Thompson, my dear,” said the vampire. “Welcome to my home at long last.” He glanced at Corban. “You have served. Go rest, my dear guest.”

Corban hesitated. “Chad?”