The Otherworldlies (17 page)

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“The stone tells the future, Fern. What it has predicted has always come to pass.” Vlad paused. “The last known prophecy predicted by the stone, according to most estimations, is about someone much like you,” he said, his eyes flickering.

“Me?”

“You are unlike any other vampire that has come before you.”

“It says all that on this?” Fern questioned, holding the drawing up to Vlad.

“It takes some interpreting.”

“I don’t understand,” Fern said, confused and scared.

“Thousands of years ago, Rhea’s Rock predicted a day in the future when the heavens would meet the earth. On that day, according to the prophecy, any vampire born was to have a special significance—a significance that could not possibly be measured.”

“When the heavens meet the earth?” Fern said, lost.

“A little over twelve years ago, there were dozens of severe electrical storms, all occurring at the exact same time, spanning every part of the globe. The heavens met the earth on that day, you see?” Vlad said, patiently. “Vampire births are extraordinarily rare. But eleven vampires were born during the storms and they all seemed to have characteristics predicted by the Rock. All were easy births, and all the infants were born with a caul. People began to believe that the prophecy had been fulfilled. These children were thought of as somehow special, though no one was sure how. They were called the Unusual Eleven. Of course, there are still many people who feel that this was not a true fulfillment of the prophecy—that the so-called Unusual Eleven are no more unusual than any vampire. Some refer to it as the Unusual Hoax.”

“And you think I’m one of these children? I’m an Unusual?”

“You have been disappearing, have you not?”

“Well, yes.”

“Every one of the Unusual Eleven, it is said, will have the ability to ‘move without moving.’ Teleporting, you see? No vampire that has come before you can do such a thing. No human being, for that matter. The Unusual Eleven will to have the ability to lead thousands, and to calm any beast, including the hecatonchires.”

“The heca-what?”

“Hecatonchires. It is a rather fearsome creature. Very rare. I hope you never have the misfortune of running into one.”

There was silence between them.

“Do you not realize, young Fern?” Vlad almost seemed anxious.

“Realize what?”

“You will grow to be one of the most powerful vampires the world has ever seen! Everyone will seek to influence you.”

Fern blinked hard. The weight of Vlad’s words was almost more than she could bear. She stumbled backward and sat on the dirt beneath her.

“Why . . . why are you telling me all this?”

“Because your life is changing, and you cannot continue to live with these Normals. You do not belong among these people anymore, Fern.”

“This is my home,” Fern said, almost as if she were asking a question.

“Those Rollens—Alistair Kimble, Kenneth Quagmire, Joseph Bing. They are not trying to protect you. They only want to promote stability—to preserve the pathetic little lives they have carved out for themselves. They file off their fangs as soon as they go through transmutation. They hide who they are, desperate to appear more like Normals. Mark my words, they will betray you to protect themselves and preserve their precious assimilation!” Vlad’s voice hardened as he lowered his head and narrowed his eyes.

“And the McAllisters? Do you honestly think they are going to love you and care for you now that they know the truth about you? Normals have never understood our kind. They are incapable of seeing us as anything more than beasts. It will not be long before even your own mother looks at you as she would a monster!” Vlad sneered once more, flashing his white fangs. “You cannot love something that terrifies you!”

“That isn’t true!” Fern exclaimed.

“I have not come to upset you,” Vlad said, much calmer now. “But there is a reason you teleported here, Fern, in front of me. Deep within you, you know where you belong. You must be tired of having no one you can trust to tell you the truth. I know this will not be painless, but you are a Blout just as your mother was a Blout.”

“A Blout?” Fern got up, her heart pounding. “My
mother
?” According to everything Fern had heard, Blouts were terrible creatures. Was that why Lindsey had assumed she was one? Blouts were also very dangerous. How dangerous was Vlad? Why hadn’t he tried to hurt her yet? She was poised to start running.

“There is nothing to be done now, Fern,” Vlad said. “I will give you time—time to think and choose. At some point you will realize that you are nothing but a burden to your family, even if they decide not to throw you out into the cold after they realize the full extent of your differences.”

Vlad made it seem as if Fern had been clinging to her past life by the brittle tips of her fingernails. “I don’t believe you about any of this!” His bleak portrait of her future pushed her beyond reason. She was near tears now. “I don’t want to choose anything.”

“I am afraid you must, dear child,” Vlad said. He placed his large hand on Fern’s head. Fern’s head tingled. “Sometimes we have no choice but to make a choice. This has been your fate since birth. You can neither deny nor escape it!” Vlad’s eyes misted over and turned into shimmering opaque pools.

The terrors that haunt regular children—boogie monsters, kidnappers, bullies—they were far in the distance now. Here, in Anderson’s Grove, a monster with sharp fangs was real and so much more terrifying than the worst thing Fern’s imagination could invent. Worse still, a part of her wondered if this man was the only one giving her the truth.

Lindsey Lin’s voice was growing nearer. Fern sensed that she was in the grove.

“I will be back in one month’s time,” Vlad said. With a flash of light, Vlad was gone. A large California condor stood in his place, squawking loudly and expanding its large black wings before flying away. It was the same bird that had appeared at the window the previous week. Fern shuddered. Vlad had been watching her. She folded the drawing of Rhea’s Rock and stuck it in the waistband of her pleated skirt.

Vlad soared high above San Juan Capistrano, hundreds of feet above its red tile roofs and chestnut hills. He glided through the air, pleased, knowing he had planted the seed of doubt in Fern’s McAllister’s mind and hoping he’d not pushed her too hard too soon. Now he knew the only thing to do was to wait.

Chapter 13
the disappearance directory

F
ern wasn’t entirely forthcoming about her activities after she’d disappeared from the offices of Kimble & Kimble. Over takeout enchiladas, she described Vlad, and her family obsessed over every detail. When she explained that he’d left by turning into a great big bird and flying away, Sam gasped and shouted, “The bird at the window!”

Eddie, having not been present at the Kimble & Kimble roundtable, had to be filled in on all things vampire related. He took all the news in stride, telling Fern that she was “even cooler” than he thought she was and vowing to “beat up” Vlad or “shoot him out of the sky” should he ever approach Fern again. Anyone who knew Eddie could tell that he meant every word. Mrs. McAllister made Eddie vow he would not tell a soul—including Kinsey. Eddie, of course, promised. Though he told Kinsey most everything, this was a pledge he intended to honor.

What Fern did not describe at the dinner table, however, were certain details of her conversation with Vlad. She told them about Vlad’s proclamation that Fern would grow into a powerful vampire and mentioned the prophecy in vague terms. Though she also spoke of the fact that Vlad thought she was part of the Unusual Eleven, she didn’t tell them he was the same person as the vagabond on the beach. She also left out his predictions of her alienation from everything she loved and his assertion that she, like her mother, was a Blout. Why she left these facts out was no great mystery: Her family would of course deny such accusations, but that wouldn’t put her mind at ease. They’d only overcompensate and make her feel worse. How they acted over the next few days would tell her more. One pitying or disgusted look from her mother or Sam or Eddie might confirm Vlad’s prediction. After learning the secret of her adoption, Fern felt a distance from her family like never before. She wondered if it would ever be fully bridged. But why
did
she feel the need to keep some things from her family? Was she seriously considering Vlad’s proposition? Was it possible she felt closer to the monsterlike Vlad because he understood who she was? She banished all these thoughts from her mind.

As the meal was winding down, there was a knock on the door. Mrs. McAllister rose to answer. The door opened and then shut. Mrs. McAllister had gone out to the front porch to speak with the unseen visitor. The McAllister siblings looked at one another. Without saying a word, Fern, Sam, and Eddie got up from the table and snuck toward the door. They leaned against it and listened in.

“I don’t understand why I can’t thank the kids in person,” Mr. Summers said. “I hear they’re responsible for saving my house.”

“They’re not home, Wallace.”

“I saw them in there,” he insisted.

“How did you see them, Wallace? Have you been in my shrubs looking through windows?” Mrs. McAllister’s voice grew angry.

“You haven’t been returning any of my phone calls, Mary Lou. I thought that things were going along great. All of a sudden, your tone changed after you had me over for dinner.”

“It’s been very busy around here.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t be honest with me.”

“You want me to be honest with you?”

“Of course,” Mr. Summers said earnestly.

“I’m very glad your house wasn’t more severely damaged. But I would like you to leave immediately,” the Commander said. “I can’t handle this right now. I need to focus on my children. Please understand. I’ll call if things calm down.”

“If?”

“Good night, Wallace.”

The conversation ended as abruptly as if the Commander had bellowed “Dismissed.”

Sam, Fern, and Eddie stampeded back to the dining room table in time to be seated as they had been when Mrs. McAllister left them. She sat back down and put her cloth napkin back in her lap, continuing to eat as if nothing happened.

“Who was that?” Sam said, forcing the issue.

“Mr. Summers. He came by to thank all of us for our help today.”

“That was nice of him,” Eddie said.

“Yes,” the Commander said. She got up from her chair. “Eddie, could you make sure all the windows are closed and locked before you go upstairs to call Kinsey?”

“Sure,” Eddie said.

After the plates were cleared and her children had retired to their rooms for the evening, Mary Lou McAllister moved to her office. She knew that she should go talk to Fern and set the record straight about Phoebe. But not knowing precisely how to approach Fern, she reasoned it could wait a little longer. It was important that she say exactly the right thing to Fern. The business with Mr. Summers had put her on edge. Maybe Mr. Summers was actually interested in
her
, but she was beginning to think that Sam might have been right all along about his obsessive interest in Fern. Could he possibly be involved in this whole vampire mess?

Flipping through her Rolodex, she picked up the phone and called Alistair Kimble. At first she had trouble convincing his dingbat secretary that her call was of the greatest urgency. She was soon connected to him. Mrs. McAllister explained the events of the day. When she finished, Alistair Kimble jumped in.

“Fern is unhurt?”

“Yes, she’s okay,”Mrs. McAllister replied, sensing an unfamiliar edge in Mr. Kimble’s voice. “Who is Vlad, Alistair?” she demanded. “Why is this man stalking my child and sneaking up on her in abandoned orange groves?”

“We have all that under control.”

“You have
nothing
under control!”

“Anger will do little to help Fern, Mrs. McAllister.”

“I want you to listen very carefully to me, Alistair. Either you start giving me some answers—and I mean actual
information
—or I will take Fern and my family and run so far and so fast, you’ll never hear from us again.”

“That would be a very foolish decision.”

“People don’t usually get very far by underestimating me.”

“I assure you, that is not my intention.”

“If you have no interest in answering my questions, in full, then I’m afraid we have nothing more to talk about. Good-bye—”

“Wait . . . please, Mrs. McAllister, wait one moment,” Mr. Kimble said. He was acutely aware that Chief Quagmire had given him explicit instructions to do whatever it took to get Mrs. McAllister on board with their latest plan. As much as he didn’t want to furnish a Normal with any actual information, he would have to, if that’s what Mrs. McAllister required. “What is it you want to know?” Mr. Kimble asked.

“Who is Vlad and what is he hoping to accomplish?”

“He is a revolutionary and the unofficial head of the Blouts. Vlad has been under the impression for many years that he’s Dracula’s messenger.”

“Dracula’s messenger?”

“In the fifteenth century, Blouts came into prominence under the brutal reign of Vlad Tepes. You probably know him as Count Dracula. Most Otherworldly historians credit Count Dracula as the founder of the Blout movement. Dracula was so notorious, however, that even Normals knew about him—but what Normals know about him only scratches the surface. His legend grew. Count Dracula wanted vampires to emerge from the shadows as the master race. Assimilation was not a viable option—the entire Blout belief system was founded upon this principle. Dracula’s brutality against Normals was the beginning of a larger plan.

“The man Fern met in Anderson’s Grove also calls himself Vlad, though that’s not his real name. He began referring to himself as that during the Blout resurgence and the name stuck. It’s impossible to say if he actually thinks he
is
Dracula’s messenger or if his name is the marketing ploy of a madman. But it’s worked to a large degree. Lately, he’s gained a substantial following. His army calls itself the Legion of the Hundred-Handers.”

“Excuse me? The Legion of the Hundred-Handers? It sounds like you’re making all this up.”

“I wish I were, Mary Lou. The Hundred-Handers get their name from a fearsome mythological beast called the hecatonchire, or ‘hundred-handed.’ Have you heard of it?”

“No.”

“These creatures have one hundred hands, as you might have guessed, and were arguably the most powerful beasts in ancient Greece. The Legion of Hundred-Handers hopes to inspire the same kind of fear the hecatonchires do. There are fifty or so ‘official’ members of the Legion. Their loyalty to Vlad is unswerving and they are known for using the most brutal tactics to terrorize anybody who stands in their path. A group like the Hundred-Handers survives by feeding off other people’s fear.”

“Are you and the Blouts at war then?”

“No, not really. Both Blouts and Rollens still depend upon keeping a low profile. Can you imagine what might happen among the Normals if our existence was common knowledge? Neither group has enough of a population to survive the kind of persecution that would inevitably occur. Our need for secrecy acts as a mutual deterrent that keeps both Blouts and Rollens from overtly escalating any conflict.”

Mary Lou McAllister processed all the new information. After a minute of silence, she spoke. “I appreciate the fact that you’re finally being forthright with me, Alistair, but you still haven’t explained why Vlad is after my daughter.”

“I was about to get to that. Vlad feels that it’s his duty to finish what Dracula started.”

“What exactly is that?”

“World dominance and the subjugation of all those who disagree with him. Those who call themselves Rollens grew out of a resistance movement to the Blouts’ views. Rollens, and specifically the Vampire Alliance, believe that Normals and vampires can coexist peacefully.”

“Why is he so powerful?”

“He’s a naturally gifted Otherworldly. His ability to morph into other forms sets him apart from most of our kind. He also has the appearance of a very powerful man. Many people speculate that his watch, nicknamed ‘the Keeper,’ holds tremendous power. Some believe that it was once owned by Dracula himself and that its wearer inherits the power of those who possessed it before. Vlad does an excellent job of portraying himself as all-powerful.”

“And Vlad thinks Fern can help him, then?” Mrs. McAllister let fear slip into her voice.

“Yes.”

“But she’s a little girl.”

“To be perfectly frank, if the prophecy is true, Fern will be one of the only people able to stop Vlad. Because of this, we—Chief Quagmire, Bing, and myself—have always assumed that should he find Fern, he would try to kill her—as he would any Unusual he encountered.”

Mrs. McAllister, not known as a gasper, huffed into the phone as if she were choking. Alistair Kimble continued.

“But he was right there in front of her and he did not kill her. He must want something else. Are you certain Fern told you everything?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Mary Lou, we can’t risk your daughter’s safety any longer. You must allow us to bring her to headquarters. She’ll be safe there until we figure out what Vlad is planning.”

Although Alistair Kimble endorsed the idea of Fern going to headquarters, the plan was not his. Less than ten minutes before, he’d received a phone call from Kenneth Quagmire introducing the idea. Kimble’s job was to convince Fern’s mother to let Fern go. Though Kimble had struggled to keep Mary Lou on the phone, the hardest part of his task was still ahead.

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. McAllister said, keeping a steady tone despite her panic. “We can hire security for the house and inform law enforcement in the area and have them patrol.”

“This is not a problem that can be dealt with using the measures you’re accustomed to, Mary Lou. There is no security detail in the world that could stop Vlad. Surely you must understand that?”

“What can you offer her that I can’t?” Mrs. McAllister insisted.

“Protection in a secure place that no Blout has ever succeeded in infiltrating. It’s a stopgap until we know more.”

“I must be allowed to go with her,” Mrs. McAllister said.

“I’m afraid we cannot permit that. We have a background check that takes months before a person’s even allowed in the front gate. It will be a struggle to convince the committee to allow Fern there, but a Normal? They’ll never reveal the location for that.”

“Unacceptable,” Mrs. McAllister blurted out. “If Fern’s so precious to you and your cause, you’ll do anything to protect her, right? That includes allowing me to accompany her.”

“The harsh reality of the matter, Mary Lou, is that the Alliance will go to great lengths to protect her, but they will not compromise headquarters to do it.”

“You are heartless!” Mrs. McAllister barked. Alistair Kimble let the word roll off him—in his long lifetime, he had been called much worse.

“I’m willing to do everything I can to protect Fern. But I’m not in a position to make the rules. The Alliance is a democracy.”

There was a pause as both Mary Lou and Alistair considered their positions. Alistair spoke up.

“What if Fern carries my mobile phone with her at all times? We’ll hide her away for the week. You’ll be able to call her anytime you want,” Mr. Kimble said, reasoning that although Fern would be hundreds of feet underground and outside of cell phone reception, Mrs. McAllister could
call
her anytime she wanted. She just wouldn’t be able to reach her. “Allow our people to try to locate Vlad, gather intel, and after the week is over, we’ll reevaluate.”

“I can’t let you just take her!” Mrs. McAllister said, beginning to sound like a broken record. Alistair Kimble sensed slight doubt in her voice and pressed on.

“Do you really want the blood of your only daughter on your hands, knowing you could’ve protected her? Is that what Phoebe would have wanted?”

The two paused at the mention of their long-dead mutual friend.

“I don’t know what Phoebe would have wanted,” Mrs. McAllister said, her voice full of sad resignation. “I’m not sure now I ever really knew her, Alistair, considering the fact that she kept all this from me all those years.”

“Being a vampire does not change who a person is, Mary Lou.”

Overcome, Mrs. McAllister placed the receiver on the desk. She held her head in her hands, shaking from the inside out. She resolved not to break down. She must think about this rationally.