Almost Everything (10 page)

I had to dig
deep into my closet to find a replacement pair of Converses. The ones I found I’d rejected as too “girly” shortly after I bought them. My feet were small, and so sometimes I impulsively bought kids’ sizes. These were hot pink with rhinestone butterflies on the side of the ankles. My toes were a bit squished, but they’d have to do until I could get to the shoe store. I never did like sandals, so I didn’t have many other options … unless I wanted to teeter around in high heels. I checked out the look in the full-length mirror on my armoire. I decided they looked kind of good with the outfit. After I brushed out my hair and put on a touch of makeup that mostly hid the scratches, I headed down to find some breakfast.

Mom was still grumbling under her breath when we met at the kitchen table over our respective bowls of sugary cereal.

“Can I pick your brain about something?”

Mom said something that sounded like, “Murph. Brains,” but then the coffeemaker made a happy percolating sound from the counter, and the strong scent of roasted beans seemed to revive her a bit. “Do you think Elias will be okay?” she asked, getting up to retrieve a cup.

“Well, not long term,” I said. “In fact, I kind of want to talk about that.”

“I’m worried about this nosferatu thing,” she said, as if she didn’t hear me. She pulled down a mug that one of her students had made. It had been shaped like a Venus of Willendorf—a headless, naked woman with big breasts and a round belly. She filled it up and sat down across from me. Adjusting her glasses, she blinked sleepily, like an owl. Her eyes widened, and then she nearly choked on her first sip. “What happened to your face? Who did that to you?”

My hand jumped
up to cover the scratch.

Mom’s power spiked. Magic welled up so quickly that I would have sworn the ground shook slightly, like some freak micro-earthquake. “I can’t believe I let you go off with a hungry vampire! If Elias touched you, I will kill him.”

“It wasn’t Elias! It was Dad’s minions.”

“What? What is Ramses playing at?” Mom’s power continued to grow and consolidate. She sat up straighter, but to my mind, she grew and spread out like a solid oak.

Meanwhile, I felt myself sinking in my seat. “I think they’re starving, like crazy starving.”

“He sent vampires after you? Here?”

“Uh, I kind of went to see him.” I thought she’d known we were off last night, although maybe Elias had neglected to tell her where. Given her slowly purpling face, I could completely understand that.

“What?” she sputtered. “Why?”

This wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, especially since it seemed so stupid in retrospect. How had I gotten so far off track? “I didn’t know it would be like that, okay? I thought … I thought Dad would have things more under control. I assumed he’d take care of this before it got crazy. But things are really bad, Mom.” My voice shook with the memory. “Really bad. We’ve got to do something. Do you know if there’s some work-around to the hunt? What I mean is, I don’t want anyone to have to die. There must be some kind of magic, right? We brought them over.”

Mom sipped her
coffee and gave me a very hard stare. Her power settled around her, like a heavy shroud. “You’re right, honey. They’re ultimately our responsibility. Frankly, it’s stupid that we still have to feed them when they don’t even belong to us anymore. We should have let them starve years ago.”

I coughed up a Cheerio. “You don’t mean that.”

“Actually, I do. It was one thing to pay the price when it bought their servitude. But now? Now they’re just parasites. Dangerous parasites.”

I pushed away from the table. I didn’t have to sit there and take that. When I stood up, however, I was hit by a wave of nausea that pushed me right back down. I gripped the table and concentrated on breathing.

Mom came over to see what was the matter. She put her arm around me, and I smelled her earthy, human scent.

My stomach growled.

Holy shit. I was hungry too, and and not for more cereal. My mom must have sensed it too, because her eyes went wide. Like tendrils, I felt her magic begin to twist toward me. I didn’t know what her spell intended, but I had to get out of there. I pushed out from under her arms and ran for the door.

I
got as far as the curb and stopped, trying to calm my beating heart. I couldn’t believe my own mother was going to entrap me in some kind of magical net, if that was what I’d sensed—not that she hadn’t done it before. She’d once put me under a zombie spell just to keep me placid and at home. And the way she talked about vampires!

“Ana? Come back here. We need to talk!”

I bolted
down the street, sending scurrying a group of cottontails foraging for clover on the boulevard. A flock of starlings took to the air as well. I ran all the way to the end of the block before I slowed.

I wanted to see Bea. Talking to Mom had been more than a bust, but Bea had something no other witch did. She had an ancient grimoire that we’d stolen from the Elders of the coven. The book had the spell that made vampires. The words were useless without the talisman, of course. But if it contained a spell that powerful, who knew what else it had?

I checked
over my shoulder, but no one was coming after me. Maybe I’d imagined Mom’s attack. Even though my sense of magic had never failed me before, it was better than thinking that both my parents had tried to do me harm within the same day.

Shit.

How was I going to get to Bea’s? I’d stuffed my emergency money and bus pass into this pair of jeans when I’d changed, but the city bus could be such a pain. Bea lived in a neighborhood that required several transfers. I could sneak around to the back and “borrow” Mom’s MINI. It would serve her right if I took off with it. But I had only a learner’s permit. I was getting pretty good, but I was super nervous about being busted by some cop or getting in an accident. My luck hadn’t been that awesome lately.

I did find myself turning down the alley, though.

St. Paulies can be so strange. Our block was one of those that had gotten into the recent fad of competitive alley scapes. People spent an inordinate amount of time and money on plantings to make the little scrap bits of yard in the alley into showpieces. The first one I passed had a gorgeous spray of deep indigo clematis climbing along a cedar plank fence. They’d also added clay pots full of white tea roses.

It was stunning.

Of course, everyone was gearing up for the annual Tea and Garden Stroll charity event. Lawn mowers had been running nonstop since this Saturday was the day when houses would open up their backyards to show off million-dollar landscaping and offer genteel cups of tea and other goodies to troupes of paying tourists.

Our own
alley looked sad compared to the others. We had an asphalt slab next to the carriage house where Mom parked the MINI. A thick bunch of ferns had taken over the untended area near the drainpipe. Mom’s mountain bike was propped, unlocked, against the carriage house door.

I might not feel right taking off with the car, but the bike seemed a fine substitution. Not much of an eff-you, but I still felt a surge of rebellion as I pedaled off.

Twenty minutes later I felt more sore than rebellious. My shins ached, and my hair was a plaster of sweat underneath the helmet. I’d mostly stuck to side streets with low traffic, but by the time I had to venture across University Avenue’s constant construction, I thought I was going to die. How could my mom do this for fun? She must be crazier than I thought.

I smiled grimly to myself. That kind of you-baffle-me insanity would be a pleasant change, honestly. If I came up with a solution to the hunt, I might have to start being grateful for the normal kind of crazy my folks drove me.

Finally, I turned down Bea’s street.

Even though they were older, the houses on the block looked remarkably similar. They were all in the Tudor style, with brown beams and white stucco. Each was about a story and a half, and they all sat right in the middle of identically manicured lawns. It was kind of Stepford, but the uniformity also made me feel weirdly … safe.

I coasted
onto the sidewalk. Hopping off, I let the bike drop to the kind of springy, stiff grass that only existed at other people’s houses. Our own was part clover with a dash of creeping Charlie, but mostly dandelions. I’d say Bea’s dad had worked some kind of green magic, but all the other houses managed the same trick. I hardly saw a single yellow or fuzzy ball on the entire block.

Before ringing the bell, I checked the time. My cell told me it was nearly eight. Though not exactly a “decent” hour to wake someone during summer vacation, it wasn’t ridiculously early either. I punched up Bea’s number and called.

“Mmmr,” she answered.

“I woke you. Sorry,” I said. “Can I come in?”

“In?” I heard rustling. I looked up in time to see her part the curtain of her bedroom window and look down. I waved. The curtain shut. “This had better be an emergency.”

My speaker picked up the sound of her huffing down the stairs, so I hung up. She opened the door a second later. Bea stood blinking at me in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt showing a cartoon fluffy cat holding a garden spade and a potted flower. The words underneath said
HAIRY POTTER
. Her brown hair, streaked with pink, was flattened on one side, and her face was bare of makeup. I tried not to notice the zit forming just under her chin. At least she’d managed to get a little color this summer, and a spray of freckles dotted either side of her button nose. Normally, I considered Bea was the cuter one of the two of us, since she had that hourglass shape all the boys craved. But, at the moment, she looked ready to bite my head off.

She glared at
me for another second, then turned and stalked off to the kitchen. I followed her inside, shutting the door quietly behind me.

The interior of Bea’s house was a lot like the exterior. There were crisp, clean lines and carpeting so white I always felt as if I must be tracking filth on it even after I kicked off my shoes and left them in the pile by the door. Air-conditioning kept the temperature almost chilly, but the house never felt stuffy or closed up. In fact, it always kind of smelled freshly polished. There were no dust bunnies lurking in the corners, or cobwebs filling cracks in the crown molding.

I found Bea in the gleaming chrome kitchen, pressing buttons on a fancy coffeemaker. A sound like a buzz saw made me jump, as fresh beans were processed into grounds. Bea leaned against a sink completely empty of dishes and rubbed her face. “Spill.”

Where to start?

Might as well get right to the point. “Remember that book I asked you to hide? I need it.”

Bea gave me a suspicious look as the water in the coffeemaker sputtered and hissed. “You told me never to tell you where it was. Ever.”

I stood awkwardly in the archway. There were tons of chairs and stools to choose from, but they seemed so artfully placed, like something out of a magazine, that I wasn’t sure I was actually supposed to sit on any of them. “I’m getting hungry,” I admitted.

“Huh? Oh, well, we’ve got cereal you can have,” Bea said, turning to a cupboard.

“That’s not what I mean,” I said quickly.
“Hungry.”
I emphasized the word, watching her half-lidded eyes for comprehension. “You know, as in the hunt.”

Her expression
widened a little, but she shook her head in confusion. “That’s bad,” she agreed, rubbing her face heavily. “But what does that have to do with the book?”

I explained my hopes that the grimoire might contain a spell that could substitute for the hunt. Bea took it all in slowly. When the chime rang on the coffeemaker, she poured herself a big cup and added a ton of milk and sugar. I joined her at the polished oak table in the breakfast nook.

The room was a new addition, though it fit in seamlessly with the rest of the remodeled kitchen. Windows covered all four walls. Bea sat, sipping, for several minutes. I didn’t think I’d laid such a difficult proposal in front of her, but, well, I knew she wasn’t a morning person. I waited as patiently as I could, but this was getting ridiculous.

Finally, I broke. “Look—are you going to help me or not?”

“It’s not that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Of course I’ll get the book for you, even though I don’t think you’re going to find anything in it. I’m trying to decide if I should tell you something.”

“You know you should! We’re supposed to be best friends.” Except, we weren’t always. We’d fought about pretty much everything at some point or another, and, of course, there was the whole witch versus vampire thing.

Bea must have
decided I was right, because she leaned across the table. “There was a secret coven meeting called last night for the Elders,” she said, her voice dropping, even though we were very likely the only people awake in the house. “We discussed the vampire problem. Seems your mom already knows about the hunger that’s spreading through the kingdom, and, well, some people think this could be a ‘final solution,’ if you know what I mean.”

There was so much about what she just said that made my brain strip its gears, but I’d gotten stuck early. “‘We’? Since when are
you
an Elder?”

Color rose on Bea’s cheeks. “Keep your voice down!” she hissed. Looking around as if expecting spies, she leaned even closer. “My dad named me as successor, okay? That makes me a kind of an apprentice Elder. I’m not allowed to vote or anything. I just have to take notes like a secretary or an aide-de-camp. When he retires, I’ll take his place on the council.”

I couldn’t decide if I was mad, jealous, or both. Even though my mom was queen, Bea’s family had always been much better connected to the witch scene than mine. So I shouldn’t have been so surprised that Bea, who’d passed her Initiation with great success in contrast to my monumental failure, was invited to participate in high muckety-muck meetings. Yet I felt totally betrayed, as if she’d left me behind on purpose. Plus, I couldn’t help thinking that if I hadn’t been such a loser at the Initiation, we’d be doing this stuff together, as a team.