The Demon Hunter (8 page)

Under the guise of being helpful, Oliver started organizing the pile, folding up the materials that vampires reused over and over to give gifts: satin wrapping, horse mane ribbons, and wooden boxes that collapsed on hinged sides.

What he was really after, though, was a maroon wood box with gold etchings of dragonlike Pyreth demons: creatures from the lower worlds that inhabited the borderlands, like the caverns around The Yomi. They were fiercely territorial, and so were often used as symbolic guardians. This box was the perfect size to hold Oliver's ever-growing Emalie collection.

As he turned, he was overwhelmed by a noxious odor. He saw that Bane's coffin was slightly ajar. Phlox had told Bane it was his responsibility to sift his own sleeping soil, and it had clearly been months since Bane had done so. That pungent bacterial smell, mixed with the lethal aroma of Bane's new cologne, was hideous and yet, strong as the smell was, Oliver's sensitive nose could tell that it was old. Bane hadn't come home since breakfast the other night.

Oliver headed upstairs and was just entering the kitchen when Karma's voice caught his ear.

“This second attack took place in the early morning hours …”

Phlox was watching the screen over a mug of coffee.

“The victim was out delivering newspapers with his father.”

A disheveled, tearstained man appeared. “He ran around to the side of the building, that's where the mailboxes are, and I heard a scream …”

“Police are doubling their efforts to find the killer animal.”

“Have you seen your brother lately?” Phlox asked, peering at Oliver.

“Not since yesterday,” said Oliver truthfully.

Phlox shook her head. “Well, I suppose he'll get around to coming home sooner or later. I know I shouldn't worry about him.”

“Our sources indicate that the investigation has not ruled out the possibility of further involvement by the cadáveres gang.”

Sebastian entered the kitchen, shaking his head. “Sounds like it's definitely a vampire.”

“Did Half-Light call?” Phlox asked.

“Tsss,” Sebastian hissed, scowling. “I don't know who they've got on the case, but it's clearly not me.” He gave his regrowing arm a sour glance.

“That's fine with me,” said Phlox. “I'd be even better if Charles would come home.”

Oliver saw the tight lines on Phlox's face and felt a squirming worry in his own gut. Another attack, coinciding with Bane being gone.
But why should I care?
Oliver thought, annoyed. If Bane was involved in the killings, that was his problem, not Oliver's. Except that it kind of was. Oliver thought about what Seth had said, how Phlox avoided the sewers, and even how Half-Light wasn't calling Sebastian to help with this crisis. If Bane was behind this, he was only going to screw things up even more for the whole family.

Yeah, but if I was in this kind of trouble, would Bane even take a second to worry about me?
Probably not, though he had tried to help Oliver last winter. Bane had wanted to
fix
Oliver by having him kill a human. Of course, Bane's actions had given Lythia the opportunity to turn Dean into a zombie, but still—he couldn't use his brother as a standard for how to act. After all, they were very different.

“Guys,” Oliver said carefully. “I don't know if it's important but—” Phlox and Sebastian both turned to him. “Bane
was
at the zoo the other night. When I saw him, he was Occupying the jaguar.”

Sebastian's brow darkened. Phlox's eyes started to glow. “Why didn't you tell us this sooner?” she asked tersely.

“Well, I didn't really think Bane did it, I mean—”

“It's all right,” said Sebastian. “We don't know anything, and it's probably not Charles.” He looked at Phlox. “I'll have to report this to Half-Light.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Phlox snapped. “We can't report this to Half-Light or Central Council. If they think it's Charles, given the trouble he's been in lately, they might—” Her eyes glowed more fiercely.

“Phlox, this isn't that serious.”

“Yet.” Phlox slapped her mug onto the counter and paced across the room. “We can't even ask the other families to keep an eye out. With how they think of us, word will get right back to Half-Light.”

“Well, then we'll find him ourselves,” said Sebastian.

Phlox nodded. “You should get to school, Ollie,” she said. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Can't I help you look for him?” If nothing else, it sounded better than a long night at school.

“Let us handle it,” said Sebastian. “I'm sure he'll turn up soon enough. These two things probably aren't even related.”

Nice try, Dad,
Oliver thought. For an attorney, he didn't sound very convincing.

Oliver headed to school, lost in worried thought. He was glad he'd told his parents, but their reaction, especially Phlox's, only made his sliver of worry about Bane grow. She'd referred to the trouble he'd been in lately—stealing the summoning charm, missing school … or was there more? If it turned out that he was the jaguar killer, would the punishment be more severe for him because of that?

Oliver found himself hoping for the first time that his brother would turn up, but he didn't that night, or the next.

Saturday evening, Oliver leaped off the back of a city bus and walked up the steep hill to the front of Emalie's house. He sat on the bottom front step and waited in the crisp darkness, his thoughts on his family. There hadn't been another jaguar attack in the last two nights, but the animal was still missing, and even more troubling, so was Bane. Phlox and Sebastian had been out almost nonstop looking for him. Oliver still had a hard time imagining that Bane was really behind the jaguar killings, but then again, why else wouldn't he be coming home?

Oliver was pulled out of his thoughts by shuffling footsteps. “'Sup,” said Dean, sitting beside him. “How was the first week?”

“Whatever,” said Oliver.

“Did your brother show up yet?”

“Nope.” Oliver turned and studied Dean's blotchy face, remembering now that there was a whole separate problem to deal with.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Nothing, it's just—I saw Lythia. Have you seen her?”

Dean instinctively glanced around. “No, wait, you mean here, in town?”

“I saw her at Harvey's.” Oliver explained the encounter. Even as he did, he worried. What if Dean was under Lythia's orders right now? There was no way to be sure.

Something scraped above them. Oliver looked up to see Emalie leaning out her upstairs window and reaching to the eave of the roof, where a thick rope was coiled around a hook. They had affixed the rope so that Emalie could sneak out without having to creep through the rest of her house. The rope dropped to the ground. It had knots in it to help her climb. Emalie swung out and shimmied down, landing with a grunt.

Oliver watched her blow a loose strand of hair from her eyes, thought it was cute, realized he was staring, panicked, and tried to look somewhere else casually.

“Hey, guys,” Emalie said, smiling. Then she saw their worried faces. “What?”

“Lythia is in town,” Dean said. “Oliver saw her.”

Oliver recounted the story again.

“Great,” Emalie grumbled. “Dean,” she said carefully, “have you—um—”

“No,” Dean groaned, “nothing!” He glanced from Emalie to Oliver. “Stop looking at me like that! I had no idea she was here, I swear.”

“Okay,” Oliver said, but inside, his trust of Dean crumbled with each thought.
Lythia could be telling him to say that.
Oliver rubbed at his jaw where Dean had broken it while under Lythia's command. This was not good.

“Do you think there's a way to block her orders?” Emalie wondered aloud. “You know, make it so Dean can resist her?”

“I don't know,” said Oliver. “Maybe. I could check the library.”

“Désirée might know,” Emalie added.

“Mmm,” Oliver murmured and frowned. The last time he'd seen Dead Désirée she had given him clues for how to talk to Selene, except she'd done it in such a way that Oliver hadn't understood what she'd meant until it was almost too late. Would it have been so hard for Désirée to say:
Oliver, go talk to Selene, the oracle that gave your prophecy, and oh, by the way, she's hiding in fireflies
?

But with Désirée it was never that simple. And visits to her shop were always uncomfortable. Oliver couldn't help wanting to avoid it.

And yet, now there were three reasons to go see her: Dean, Oliver's questions, and—Oliver felt in his pocket, his fingers touching the smooth glass of the pendant on Bane's necklace. He pulled it out. “I could ask her about this, too.”

“No luck figuring out what it is?” asked Dean.

“No,” said Oliver. “I looked in a Skrit dictionary at school and did a search online. But it didn't show up.” The more time Bane was mysteriously gone, the more Oliver was curious as to whether the necklace held a key to what he was up to. It was probably time to tell his parents about this, too.

“How are
you
feeling?” Dean asked Emalie.

“Ah, I'm all right.” She yawned. “Just a little tired. It's a lot harder being nocturnal now that school's started.” Oliver knew that Dean had been referring to the way she'd passed out the other night, but Emalie didn't bite. “I have a new math teacher, and I don't know if it's going to be a guaranteed nap this year like it used to be. But whatever, I'll make it work.”

She started down the stairs to the street. “Hey, I heard there was another jaguar attack.”

“Yeah,” said Oliver.

“Do you think it's Bane?” Emalie asked carefully.

“I don't know.”

You're worried about him, aren't you?

Oliver's eyes snapped to Emalie. She'd spoken in his head, and now gave him an embarrassed smile. Oliver remembered back to Italy: Emalie had said that only the little television charm could invite her into his head—but he'd been suspicious that she could get in whenever she wanted.

Sorry,
Emalie said guiltily.

“Right,” Oliver said aloud, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“What?” Dean asked, his gaze flashing between them.

“Nothing,” Emalie replied.

“Ugh.” Dean rolled his eyes.

The roar of the bus reached their ears, but instead of stepping up beside the bus stop shelter, the three shrank back into the shadows. The bus squealed to the stop and let off passengers. Just as it was lurching away from the curb, Oliver and Dean each hooked an arm with Emalie.

“Ready?” Oliver asked. They rushed forward and leaped, soaring up and landing atop the departing bus. They sat down in a row, legs stretched out, leaning back on their hands, the moist breeze massaging their faces.

“I love these seats,” said Emalie.

“So,” said Dean brightly, “where to tonight?”

Emalie pulled out their graveyard map and unfolded it. “We were going over to Capitol Hill the other night, so, same place? It's in the second circle, but not too far out.”

Emalie was referring to circles they'd drawn on the map with a red marker. The circles were centered on the address from Oliver's human parents' obituary. The first circle had a mile radius from where they'd lived. The second was two miles and so on, until the circles were too big to fit on the page. They'd been able to search some cemeteries online and had crossed those off the list. Now they were concentrating on the ones that were left.

“Yeah, that's a good one to check,” Dean said. “I read that it's got a bunch of residents from that time period.”

As Oliver listened to Dean, he found himself thinking:
He could be leading us into a trap. This could be Lythia's doing.
What was he going to do about these thoughts?

“Okay, same place,” Oliver agreed slowly. “I told Jenette we'd meet her there, since we stood her up the other night.”

“It's not like it was a
date
or anything,” Emalie grumbled.

“No,” Oliver said carefully, “but it's hard for her to get away from The Shoals.”

“Well, maybe she shouldn't come as often as she does,” Emalie continued.

Oliver glanced at Dean, who shrugged his eyebrows.

The bus was rumbling to a stop at a traffic light. Ahead, the road crossed a freeway overpass.

It's just kind of annoying,
Emalie pouted in Oliver's head,
how Jenette totally
likes
you, and acts all—you know
.

Um.
Everything suddenly felt hot and claustrophobic in Oliver's head. Did she hear
everything
he thought? Then he remembered back to just moments before, when she had dropped down from her window and Oliver had thought how cute she looked—
Oh no, I just thought about thinking about it! She might have heard that, too!

Oliver glanced nervously at Emalie—was that a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth? Her dark eyes were focused right on him.
Guh,
Oliver thought nauseously. He looked away again.
Think about something else! He told himself.

Dean started to stand. “Time to transfer,” he announced. Another bus was turning left in front of theirs, heading for the on-ramp to the freeway. “Let's go.”

They hooked arms again and vaulted into the air, arcing high over the traffic and landing on the next bus as it rolled onto the freeway.

They took their rooftop seats once more. Oliver untangled his arm from Emalie's as quickly as he could, then resumed trying not to think about anything that he wouldn't want Emalie to hear—but what about what she'd already heard? How often was she in his head?

It's really not that often, I swear
.

Bah!
Oliver wanted to jump, to flee. “Just, don't,” he spat and immediately hated how annoyed it had sounded.