Almost Everything (18 page)

As hard as it had been for him to mention my father, I could see it would be impossible for him to complete this sentence, so I
did. “My people?” His only acknowledgment was to wait for me to continue. I sighed. “My dad’s lost it. Like, totally cracked. I tried to go talk to him, and I nearly got killed for my efforts.”

“Seriously?” He finally looked at me, his expression shocked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, and then everything came out in a flood of words. I told him about how I couldn’t understand why my dad hadn’t called a hunt, even though I was scared of what that might mean to the witches. I went on about how I was searching for a solution, but I stopped short of telling him about the grimoire. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea for the vampire slayer to know about a magic book that contained the spell that enslaved vampires, even if the talisman was destroyed. That reminded me. “Did you know my mom’s been trying out potions on Elias? To see if she can enslave him?”

Nikolai had been about to take a drink. He stopped and stared at the glass. He set it down without taking a sip. His reaction made me wonder whether I had been drinking the potion too.

“That would certainly solve some problems,” he said thoughtfully.

“What?” I snapped.

“I didn’t mean you!” he said. “I never mean you, okay?” He looked down at his bandaged hand. “Forget I said that.”

I wanted to stay angry, but I found I could sort of understand the position he echoed. Mom had said it succinctly last night. It was one thing to sacrifice a human being when you got a kingdom of slaves in return, but it was quite another when they were actively resisting you. Who would volunteer to die when all they were doing, in a sense, was prolonging a war between races?

As disgusting
as the idea was for me, I kind of
got
that Mom was trying to make the sacrifice worth the price by attempting to drug Elias into submission. If she could show her people that she had control of the vampires, the lottery might seem a more viable option.

But the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Even if Mom hit on the perfect formula, how was she going to get all the vampires to drink it? It wasn’t as though they’d all line up to drink that particular Kool-Aid. This was especially so since, outside of maybe not starving to death, bondage would not be a win for the vamps. In fact, I could see someone as proud as Elias preferring starvation.

So, what then? Was the plan to load up a tranquilizer gun and send Nikolai and his dad out into the woods to bag each and every member of the kingdom? I couldn’t see that working very well. Some vampires, like my dad, hardly ever left the shelter of the caves, and those who did often had Igors to protect them.

I supposed it could all be part of a plan to load up the blood of whoever got chosen for the hunt, and afterward the witches could jump out of the shadows and yell, “Surprise! You’re all slaves again!”

Well, now,
that
was an evil thought. Was I bad not to necessarily put it past my mom to consider it?

Where would I be in all this? What would they do about my hunger?

I shook
my head. I had to find an alternative—something much more win/win for
everybody
.

It was fine and dandy that the Southern Region had worked out a system with a queen who took responsibility for the survival of vampires, but I imagined there was more to that story—especially given that Luis himself was a dhampyr. They clearly had a better relationship between races and probably negotiated some kind of treaty hundreds of years ago. We could barely keep our teeth out of one another’s necks here in the Northern Region—literally.

Besides, who would start? As much as I wanted to solve this problem, I certainly didn’t want Mom to volunteer to die in order to fix things. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of offering myself either. Plus, even though I desperately wanted to trust that my dad would hold up his end of any treaty, there was a bad track record there. His marriage to my mom was supposed to have ended vampire/witch tension. That hadn’t turned out so well.

Nik, as lost in thought as I had been, continued to admire the grain pattern in the table. His angular features, half-hidden in the tangle of curls, looked darkly pensive, and unfortunately reminded me of his father.

Mr. Kirov had immigrated from Russia, and, since every place seemed to handle this problem differently, I wondered what Russian witches did about the hunt. I was about to ask him about it, when Mom waltzed into the room.

Mom was dressed to go out. She had freshened her makeup and, although she wore casual jeans, she’d slipped into one of those Indian cotton tunics with embroidery around the collar and cuffs that were all the rage in the 1970s. Of course, Mom had no idea how dated the look was. She smiled and nodded a greeting at Nik as if she expected to find a young man sitting at our kitchen table at eight o’clock at night.

“Have you eaten?” she asked me.

I ignored
the irony of the question but couldn’t help a sly glance at Nikolai. He chuckled slightly. “Uh, yeah,” I said.

“How about you, Nikolai? Would you like a sandwich or something?”

“That would be lovely, Dr. Parker,” he said. He was such a proper gentleman, always remembering that my mom was a PhD. Still, I was always turned off by this Eddie Haskell/June Cleaver part of their relationship. My mom clearly appreciated the whole shtick; she started humming happily while she got ham and cheese out of the fridge. I found it gross and annoying.

My phone beeped. I considered ignoring it, but reading a text was preferable to the tableau of my mom’s going all Dolly Domestic for Nik. When it chirped again, I realized it wasn’t a text; it was an actual call—from Bea. Before I could even say hello, I could hear her sobbing. “They took my mom, Ana!”

“What?” My heart was in my throat. Nightmares of vampire swarms flashed into my mind, but then I realized true sunset was still an hour away.

“For the lottery,” she sobbed. “They’re going to sacrifice my mom!”

“T
hey took my mom.”

Even though Bea kept saying it between sobs, I couldn’t believe it. No way.

I snuck
a look at Mom. She was still humming to herself as she spread mayo on two slices of whole wheat. The sun set outside the window, and its golden rays highlighted the gray in her curls.

Did she know? Was she party to what happened to Bea’s mom?

It wouldn’t be the first time my mom was involved in something completely evil, but something about this rang false. Hadn’t I heard her telling Mr. Kirov she’d never allow the lottery during her reign? But then she
had
asked about Nik being on board for something I hadn’t heard. …

A kidnapping, though? I looked at Nik, who watched me with curiosity in his eyes. I made the sign language letter
B
with my hand up and thumb curled into the palm. He nodded that he understood but then turned his attention back to Mom, as if neither concerned nor hiding anything.

Okay, I
was pretty sure that meant he didn’t know what was going on—unless Nik was a better actor than I gave him credit for.

“Ana,” Bea was saying, “you’ve got to help. Talk to your mom. Talk to your dad. Please. It’s my mom! We can’t let her die. Not like this.”

Her voice was reaching such a fever pitch, I was worried my mom might actually hear. I turned my head slightly, to hide the receiver a little. “Hang on. I can’t really talk here,” I said in a way I hoped would allow Bea to catch my drift. “But I’m on top of it, I swear. On our friendship.” I whispered the last three words. In grade school we’d made a blood oath to always help each other. She knew how seriously I took that.

“Okay, okay.” She was calming down a bit. At least she was taking breaths between each word now. “But the sun is going down, Ana.”

It was already twilight.

Would they do something tonight already?

“Trust me, please,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder. Mom had gone into the pantry to return the mayo to the fridge. I chanced a slightly louder, “I’ll text, okay?”

“Can I come over?”

I thought about the Elder meeting that Mom supposedly had later tonight. “I’ll let you know. It might not be safe.”

“I have to do something.”

Mom was coming back. “I know. I’ll text you.”

My hands
shook as I slid the phone back into my pocket. Despite the humid, hot air blowing through the window screen, ice settled along my skin.

I stared at my mom, trying to read her mind. I supposed she might be just devious enough to be hanging around at home to have an alibi, as it were. She’d know I’d rush to Dad or otherwise try to stop the hunt. Maybe she planned to ensnare me this morning because she wanted to keep me from interfering tonight.

That was a deeply frightening thought.

“Who called?” she asked casually.

I shrugged, not entirely trusting myself to speak. “Nobody,” I muttered.

“It was that Thompson guy—don’t lie,” Nikolai said, coming to my rescue, though he knew perfectly well who’d called.

Mom frowned as if trying to picture whom we were talking about. “That big fellow from the play? He was over here practicing his lines constantly. Are you dating?”

I wasn’t doing very well with this charade, but I managed a nod.

“He dropped her off,” Nikolai said.

Mom looked at Nik for a long time. A smile crossed her lips. “But you’re in our kitchen.”

“So I am,” he said, gesturing expansively and giving me a broad wink. This was so weird.

“Pickles? Chips?” Mom asked.

“Both, please,” he said.

She went into the pantry to fetch his request.

My phone beeped. Thinking it might be Bea with more news, I checked. It was just Thompson, who texted an apology for his testosterone outburst, though he didn’t word it that way. I quickly replied that everything was cool with us.

Nik glanced
up, watching me send my response. He pulled out his own phone and typed awkwardly with the finger of his uninjured hand.

From the pantry, Mom called out, “Do you like dill or sweet?”

“Dill,” he said, his finger pecking.

I knew it was Nik when my phone chirped again. He had written, “Something bad happened. I can tell.”

I needed to know something before I told him. “Can I trust u?”

Mom caught us both staring anxiously at our phones, but she laughed as she set the jar of pickles down in front of Nikolai. I thought for sure we were busted, but she shook her head lightly. “You kids and your multitasking,” she said. “No one ever focuses on just one thing anymore.”

“That would be boring, Dr. Parker,” Nikolai said as he punched Send.

The instant I thought she was on to us, I’d thumbed the ringer off. I felt the vibration and looked down. He’d written, “Only ever killed 4 u.”

Last year during the whole talisman incident, Dad called the hunt on Mom because he thought she had it. Nik had helped me stop some of them with, shall we say, lethal force. The act had made him an official vampire slayer, no longer an apprentice. But I knew it had shaken him up. I’d always wondered whether he’d continued to kill. I looked over at him. He nodded as if trying to reassure me that what he’d written was the truth. His eyes were very serious.

As Mom
leaned against the counter, her eyes darted back and forth between us. Nik ate his sandwich and played a game of Angry Birds on his iPhone. I texted Bea and asked how she was holding up.

Mom waited for a while, as if expecting something. I helped myself to some chips. They stuck drily in my throat. Nik and I made chitchat about the things he’d been up to. Actually, Nik did most of the talking. I could only make noises; if I talked too much, my voice shook from the effort to act normal.

We kept it up for the most excruciating six minutes of my life. Eventually, Mom couldn’t contrive a reason to keep standing there. She wandered off to the living room. Nik put a finger to his lips and pointed to his phone.

I finally told him. “It’s B. Coven has her mom.”

When he got the message, he nearly dropped his phone. His eyes bulged. “Are you serious?” he whispered.

I nodded, although I couldn’t really be one hundred percent sure it
was
the coven that had Bea’s mom. But someone did, and Bea seemed pretty certain they were going to sacrifice her for the hunt. “What are we going to do?”

The basement door opened, and I jumped. Elias rubbed a hand over the short hairs on his head. His shirt hung open, unbuttoned. I could see the hard line of his chest—white, rough patches of scars on pale skin. When his eyes fell on Nikolai, they narrowed. “Hunter,” he said in greeting.

“Vampire,” Nikolai replied, standing up.

What was
it with men, always squaring off? I motioned for Elias to join us in the kitchen. He took a moment to button a few buttons on his shirt, his eyes on Nikolai. “What can I do for you, my lady?”

“Cut out the posturing for a minute,” I hissed. “We’ve got a real problem. Bea’s mom has been taken. They’re going to sacrifice her to the hunt!”

“They?” Elias’s dark eyebrow arched. “Who?”

“It could be Igors, I suppose, but—,” I started.

Nikolai cut me off. “It’s the coven. People have been running scared. Maybe it’s a group acting outside of royal approval.” He jerked his head in the direction of the living room, indicating Mom. We huddled together near the sink, keeping our voices low. “But someone would have called me for backup if the kidnapping was perceived as an attack from the vampire camp. We’ve been on freaking high alert.”

“And so it begins,” Elias said softly as he finished buttoning his shirt thoughtfully. Only a vampire could wear a long-sleeve button-down in this heat. Outside the window, the crickets chirped lazily in the evening warmth.

I didn’t like how resigned he sounded. “We need to focus. We’ve got to find out when the hunt is happening. You’ve been through this sort of thing before,” I said to Elias. “Is there any special timing? Like at midnight or something? How much time do we have to rescue her?”

Elias lifted his head as if scenting the wind. His eyes grew distant, unfocused. Nik and I exchanged a curious look, but neither of us dared interrupt. After a half minute or less, Elias rubbed the space between his eyes and shook himself out.