The Otherworldlies (28 page)

“Of course,” Vlad said, his mood light, his eyes bouncing from Fern’s face to the stone.

“How did you know that we were in the grove tonight? How did you know that I would show up in the grove that first time?”

“I have been watching you—watching
out
for you, Fern—for a long time.”

“But how did you know?”

“In the interest of full disclosure, Fern, I will tell you the truth. Your classmate, Lee Phillips, collected hair from your scalp. One of the Hundred-Handers has been monitoring you from a Sagebrush since that time.”

“Lee . . . Lee’s a
vampire
?
That’s
why she attacked me in the bathroom?”

“No, she is not. She would have been much harder to persuade if she were a vampire. Humans can be bought for almost nothing. I paid her a few visits not too long ago once I heard there might be an Unusual in the area. Of course, I did not look as I do now. It did not take much to bribe her; she abhors you so deeply, I believe she would have done the task for nothing,” Vlad said, almost laughing.

“That day Sam and I saw the swallow hanging from her house—you had been there!”

Fern thought of her brother and looked over at Sam and Lindsey, lifeless by the bonfire, encircled by the huddle of Hundred-Handers. Vlad sensed Fern’s anxiety.

“Do you not understand? Humans will hurt one another at the drop of a hat. They are disloyal. Why would you want to ally yourself with them? They will only let you down, if they do not try to destroy you first.”

“That’s not true,” Fern said, protesting.

“Fern, there is no delaying the inevitable. Yes or no: Will you join me?”

Fern stood up straight and clutched the Omphalos tightly. She looked over at the Hundred-Handers and was sickened by the prospect of them feeding on her brother and friend. She was sickened by the thought that she could ever follow in the footsteps of the Blouts, who fed off other people.

“I’d rather be dead than be like you,” she said, closing her eyes, hoping to teleport to the first place her mind thought of. She knew her only chance of saving Lindsey and Sam was to keep the stone and use it as a bargaining chip with Vlad.

“That is the wrong decision!” Vlad screeched. He stared back at the rock.

Vlad spread his arms out, shrinking slightly before morphing into the large black condor. The bird flapped violently in front of her, and as it swooped down, its large talons scratched at her face. Fern dropped the Omphalos, crying out in pain. She held her hand over her brow, which now gushed with blood. The condor dove, snatching the rock up from the ground. It landed about ten feet away from Fern. As the condor’s wings spread wide, Fern lay in the sand bleeding, almost fainting with shock, fear, and pain. She watched, helpless, as the bird transformed into the human version of Vlad once more.

Vlad held the rock in his hands as tenderly as if it were a newborn, wide-eyed.

“The will of Cronus be done,” he said, then repeated, “The will of Cronus be done.” His voice got louder as he uttered the phrase over and over.

Fern crawled painfully to her knees. The Omphalos Oracle turned from black to red as it seemed to radiate in Vlad’s hands.

Fern lurched to her feet, feeling dizzy. She stumbled to the shore, immersing her hands in the tide. Frantic, she closed her eyes and began to move her hands above the foam. Clenching her teeth, she concentrated on the water and then on Vlad, who was now in a near trance, still chanting. Blood dripped down her forehead and into the swirling foam. The ocean water followed her hands as she whipped them toward Vlad. A stream of water lifted from the lapping waves, and shot up violently. The water hit him with force, drenching his fine silk suit.

Vlad opened his eyes, the rock still glowing in his hands, and threw his head back. He cackled, staring at Fern.

“Do you think you can drown me, you impetuous runt? Soon you will not have the strength to perform that pitiful trick. You will be even more powerless than you are now!” Fern set her eyes upon the Omphalos, which was now fiery orange. Instantly she felt as if something had clotheslined her. Her feet flew out from under her and she crashed into the surf, swallowing a mouthful of salt water as she landed. The tide rose over her, soaking her through. She couldn’t get up. A wave crashed on top of her again, sucking her across the wet sand, farther into the sea.

Help,
she thought.
Somebody please help me. Help. What can I do?

Fern was in a fog of ocean and pain, so when she heard a voice clearly for the first time, she thought she must be imagining it. The Voice grew louder, then louder still.

He derives his power from his watch. Destroy it and he will no longer be protected.

Of course! The Commander had told Fern about the watch after her lengthy talk with Mr. Kimble. Fern couldn’t tell if one voice was speaking or several, but it didn’t matter just then. Someone had heard her.

Destroy his watch,
the Voice repeated.

How?
Fern thought back.

The ocean. The mightiness of Poseidon. Use it. Freeze it. Stay there. Use it. Freeze it. Stay there.

With all the strength left in her, Fern lifted her head out of the water and turned to Vlad. Her whole body was submerged, but she focused on Vlad’s watch. She fought to stay afloat, and with one exhausted hand she brushed her wet hair from her eyes. She must concentrate. She began to think of any cold thing that came to mind. Ice cubes. Smoothies. Frozen peas. Snow. Glaciers.

A look of single-minded determination consumed Fern’s face, as if she were arm wrestling a stronger foe and wouldn’t give in. Her face reddened. She kicked to remain above water.

But something was happening on the beach. Crystals were forming on Vlad’s clothes where he had been soaked by Fern’s blast of seawater. Veins of ice ran down his jacket sleeves. Suddenly the face of Vlad’s golden watch shattered. It had frozen solid.

“The Keeper!” Vlad screamed, stopping the chanting. “The count’s watch! What have you done?” It was working.

Fern focused on his legs. Pain jolted through her skull, and she felt herself floating farther out to sea. But nothing would deter her. She could not let up. She continued to focus her gaze, though she was losing strength. She felt her legs go numb, then her arms.

Vlad’s teeth began to chatter. Fern could see he was struggling to move. He fell over, his body stiff, and his face took on a blue hue. He still muttered Cronus’s Curse with each breath, but the breaths came slower and slower.

The Hundred-Handers, torches in hand, surged toward Vlad. After they reached him, they began tracing the outline of his body with their torches, trying to thaw him out.

One cloaked man spotted Fern.

“She’s there! In the water!” A group began to charge toward her. Fern submerged her whole body. She felt herself gather strength as the current rippled over her.

Fern hoped she had one last stand in her.

She popped up out of the water once more. With all her remaining strength, she waved her hands frantically over the waters. The ocean swirled around her like a whirlpool. With one swift motion, she threw her arms out toward the Hundred-Handers, who were either running toward her or warming Vlad’s body. A thirty-foot wall of water rose up from around her. With the force of a tidal wave, it crashed down on the beach. The wave slammed a handful of Hundred-Handers against the stony cliffs. Every torch was extinguished, and screams of agony filled the night air.

Fern spotted Vlad. He was pushed up against one of the cliffs and beginning to squirm again. She focused on him, trying to finish what she’d started, thinking of nothing but freezing him solid. She valiantly tried to keep her head above the rising water.

But soon she could no longer fight the excruciating pain. Fern looked and focused and focused and looked, until salt water covered her eyes and crept into the corners of her mouth. She felt nothing but the cold current of the ocean around her. She lost sight of Vlad. Her body had been bankrupted of energy. Physically unable to hold out any longer, Fern McAllister closed her eyes, finally giving in to the restless waters of the Pacific.

Chapter 23
the first confirmed case

W
hen Fern awoke in her own bed, wrapped in blankets and washed clean of all dirt, sand, seawater, and blood, she was shocked. Her head felt as if it might implode from the pain.

“You’re awake!” Sam said. Sam had only left Fern’s room for bathroom and food breaks, though Mr. Bing assured him that his sister would awaken in fine shape. Anxious for something to do while he waited for Fern to regain consciousness, he’d decided to put on Fern’s Breakfast Sunglasses, which were resting on her nightstand. He was still wearing them now, though it was close to two in the morning. Byron, who had kept watch as loyally as Sam, jumped up from the foot of the bed and began furiously licking Fern’s face.

“Sam?” Fern said weakly. She fondled Byron’s ears. “Sam? Are you okay? Eddie? How did we get home?” she asked groggily. “Ohhhhh,” she said, trying to think clearly through the pain. “Where’s the rock?” She shifted in her twin bed as everything came back to her. “Are you okay? Did we do it?”

“Whoa, Fern, one question at a time.”

“Are you okay?” Fern asked again, scanning Sam’s body for injuries.

“I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. You’re the one that everyone is worried about. You’ve been out for a day and a half.”

“Are you wearing my sunglasses?” Fern said, trying to form a smile.

“Um, well, yeah,” Sam said, laughing as if he’d been caught in an embarrassing act. “I’m wearing them because my future’s so bright.”

Fern let some frail laughter escape.

“I was bored, so I put them on,” Sam said, taking them off. His eyes were puddles of sagging fatigue.

“Is Lindsey okay?” Fern asked weakly.

“She’s good. Vlad just put us in a trance or something.”

“What happened? I don’t remember.”

“I didn’t wake up until there were a hundred people from the Alliance on the beach. From what I’ve been able to piece together, Mr. Kimble and a bunch of people from the Alliance showed up at Pirate’s Cove right after you froze Vlad.”

“I
froze
Vlad? It worked?”

“Yup,” Sam said, reveling in the excitement. “I guess I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you for messing around with Clownface’s coffee, you know, since it probably saved my life. Mr. Kimble was saying that if you hadn’t been in the ocean, you would have been a total goner. Because you’re a Poseidon and everything, the ocean gave you strength. You were able to resist Cronus’s Curse.”

“I heard voices, Sam,” Fern said.

“What do you mean?”

“I was crying for help and someone responded. I heard them in my head. They told me to use the ocean and that I should go after Vlad’s watch.”

“His watch?”

“Yeah,” Fern said.

“What if it was another Unusual who was speaking to you? Maybe you can communicate with them.”

“You and your theories.” Fern looked at Sam doubtfully. “It could have been anybody,” she said, playing it cool. She took comfort, however, from the fact that someone, somewhere, had heard her plea for help. “What happened when the Alliance arrived?”

“Those men that took us from the grove, the Hundred-Handers, must have looked a lot scarier than they actually were. As soon as the Alliance showed up, they ran! More like the Hundred Cowards.”

“They ran?”

“When Mr. Kimble arrived with a whole army, they knew they were outnumbered. Did you know that the Alliance has a jail? The Reformatory—it’s what Chuffy was talking about. Apparently it’s really scary. I bet they were afraid of being thrown in there for life. And,” Sam said excitedly, unable to stop talking, “Mr. Kimble would have been there sooner except there was an elaborate distraction plan. Vlad must have been planning all this for weeks! One of the Hundred-Handers, Vlad’s right-hand man named Paole, is a very powerful Hermes and made everyone believe that you’d teleported to the mission. That’s where the Lins and the vigilantes who had been watching you went. Get this—Mr. Summers was leading the team of Alliance Intelligence who was supposed to be protecting you. Some job he did,” Sam said as an aside.

“I ran back to the house and no one was there.”

“That must have freaked you out.”

“You could say that,” Fern said, not wanting to think about it. “Hey, what about the rock?”

“Huh?”

“The stone . . . where is the Omphalos . . . ? “Fern said, trying to sit up.

“Oh yeah! I haven’t figured that one out yet. Everyone’s saying that it was destroyed, but Lindsey swears that she woke up right when Mr. Kimble arrived. She says that he took it and handed it off to someone.”

Sam saw the concern rush over his sister’s face. “Don’t worry, Fern. If it is with Mr. Kimble, it’s in good hands. You know that he’s the only one who turned out to be trustworthy in this whole thing? Well, him and Mr. Bing, of course.”

The window to Fern’s bedroom was propped open, letting in the cool Capistrano breeze.
Für Elise
began. It took Fern a second to recognize the noise as the doorbell.

“Someone’s at the door?” Fern looked at her clock. “It’s after midnight!”

“Hah!” Sam said, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? People started coming by last night, even in the middle of the night. No one’s actually rung the doorbell though—all your visitors have kept a very low profile. People keep leaving notes and flowers on the back porch. We’ve had to empty the mailbox four times because people keep stuffing it full of Get Well Fern cards. All night long they were coming by. One woman drove in from Phoenix. You know the man who donated the St. Gregory’s library? He stopped by and left a whole envelope of cash to ‘thank you for your efforts.’”

“Why in the world—”

“Vampires are a bunch of gossips. The word that one of the Unusual Eleven lives here, for certain, in this very house, has spread like wildfire. They’re calling you the Dracula Destroyer. I think it’s a little spooky, to be honest.”

“Are you serious?” Fern marveled at her reception.

“Dead serious,” Sam responded. “You’re officially famous—in this weird vampire way, but it still counts. The Commander’s already talking about installing a security gate and surveillance cameras. You know she won’t put up with unwanted visitors stopping by.” Sam wasn’t even coming up for air anymore. “You know, if you ask me, all this activity sure isn’t helping the Rollens keep a low profile, the idiots.

“Mr. Summers stopped by around two and explained himself to Mom. Apparently the fire was a Blout attack. No offense, Fern, but I still don’t want Mom dating him, since he’s a vampire. It’s too complicated, you know? Call me old-fashioned, but vampires should stick to dating other vampires.” Sam stopped talking as he moved to the window and stuck his head out to see who was at the door.

“It’s Chief Quagmire.”

The Commander’s stern voice drifted up to the window.

“I’m not shocked at the hour, Chief Quagmire. I’m shocked that you have the audacity to show up here after the spineless, immoral way you behaved!”

Chief Quagmire’s voice was more muffled. He was responding to Mrs. McAllister, but neither twin could hear him.

“What’s he saying, Fern?”

“I can’t tell.” Fern paused. She really couldn’t tell. Her hearing was gone. Sam smiled at his sister.

“Oh, don’t panic, Fern. Mr. Bing said you might have a temporary loss of your powers because you were so close to the Omphalos and Vlad nearly pulled the curse off.”

“So this is what it’s like to be normal,” Fern said, feeling her face for dramatic effect.

“Oh, you’ll never be normal, Freaky Fern. Not even for a day.” Sam smiled at his sister. “But we still like you anyway.” When she smiled back, it pleased him. Mr. Bing hadn’t lied. Fern was going to be okay.

The Commander’s voice carried through the window again. “There’s nothing in the world you can tell me that won’t make me hate every fiber of your being for putting Fern in danger,” Mrs. McAllister shouted at Chief Quagmire. “Fern’s not joining your Alliance. She’s got her own alliance right here in this house! Leave and never come back! You may not suck blood, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a parasite.”

The door slammed.

Fern grimaced, wondering if the Commander had succeeded in waking every neighbor they had on La Limonar. According to Sam, half of them were vampires anyway, so it probably didn’t much matter.

“So you told the Commander everything? Even what happened at New Tartarus?” Fern said to Sam as he moved away from the window and sat back in Fern’s desk chair.

“You just heard her, didn’t you? Would you’ve lied to her?”

“Why did Chief Quagmire say I was a false claim?”

“According to Lindsey’s parents, he thought that Vlad would let his guard down if he heard that you were no longer being protected. He wasn’t trying to get you killed; he thought he was outsmarting Vlad.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He thought Vlad wouldn’t fall for the trap unless he made it known that you were no longer thought of as an Unusual. That’s why he disseminated the false claim memo. The ridiculous thing is, because Vlad ended up getting caught, it makes it seem like his stupid plan worked.”

A soft knocking at the door stopped Fern from answering her brother’s question.

“Do I hear talking in here?” Mrs. McAllister, still stunning in her terry-cloth bathrobe, stuck her head in.

“Sam, I thought I told you to come get me as soon as Fern woke up,” Mrs. McAllister said sternly, though she was unable to stop from smiling at the sight of her conscious daughter.

“Anyway . . . I’m beat,” Sam said. He mouthed
Good luck
at his sister before heading out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Mrs. McAllister sat on the edge of Fern’s bed, careful not to squish her daughter’s feet. She was still flushed from her heated front lawn discussion with McAllister Enemy Number One, Chief Kenneth Quagmire. Her blue eyes were still capable of penetrating to Fern’s very core, even as tired as they were.

“How are you feeling?” Mrs. McAllister said.

“I’m a little headachy,” Fern said, “but okay.” Fern began to grow nervous about what her mother might say to her. After all, Fern had kept so much from her.

“I have no idea how you must be feeling right now or even what to say,” Mrs. McAllister said. This admission took Fern by surprise. Were adults supposed to admit such things? Fern continued to stare up at the ceiling. “Things have really hit the fan in the past few days, haven’t they?”

“Yeah,” Fern said, touching the Band-Aids that covered the scratches above her left eyebrow.

“I’m so relieved you’re all right,” the Commander said. Her voice was shaky. Fern could hardly believe it.

“You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you the truth about New Tartarus?”

Mrs. McAllister took a deep breath and regained the form in her voice once more.

“I’m disappointed, Fern. I’m disappointed because you must have been going through torture these past few weeks and you kept it from me. But then I realized something. I haven’t been forthright with you either,” she said, inching closer to Fern. “Ever since that day at Kimble & Kimble, in the conference room, I’ve wanted to talk to you, make sure you know how proud I am of you . . . how happy I am to be your mother . . . but I never knew exactly what to say, so I said nothing at all.” Mrs. McAllister put her hands together and folded them in her lap. “I may be a ‘commander,’ but I sure lost touch with my troops.”

Fern gaped.

“What?” the Commander said, smiling coyly. “You thought I didn’t know about your little nickname?” She laughed and smiled all at once. “It’s quite all right. There are worse things children call their mothers. But remember: I’m always listening.”

Fern had never seen this side of her mother before, and although she didn’t know what to expect, she could feel the gap between them slowly start to fill. She remained motionless.

“Phoebe, your mother, and I—well, you don’t know this, but we went to St. Gregory’s together. I was an only child, and so was she. We spent all our time together. She was a lot like you, Fern. She looked a lot like you too. She even had all sorts of problems with her stomach. Phoebe was the best friend I ever had.”

“I saw your initials at Pirate’s Cove . . . with hers,” Fern said, as a lump began to form in her throat, though she didn’t know why.

“Is that still there? Phoebe and I would go there all the time. It’s why I first started taking you there, actually. Phoebe loved that place more than anything. She was just like you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It was her idea to carve our initials into the cliff. She was always doing impulsive things like that. I guess you could call her a rebel. In fact, she caused the first ever Emergency Conference at St. Gregory’s. I bet you didn’t know that, did you?”

“What did she do?” Fern asked, enraptured.

“Well, a boy named Roger Webster had humiliated me. We were in eighth grade at the time, and he made up an awful rumor about me—something so awful, so terrible, I was in tears for weeks. Phoebe, being the fireplug she was, was not about to let that go on. One day she marched right up to him and demanded he take it back and tell everyone that it wasn’t true. He didn’t, of course.

“So the next day at recess, Phoebe cornered him in the boys’ bathroom. Roger came running out, minutes later, covered in every vile substance you’d find in a bathroom, screaming and carrying on. Phoebe was spotless. It became a big deal; Phoebe’s father was called in and she was nearly expelled—except for one thing: no one could figure out how she’d done it. How could she have gotten sewage all over Roger without getting any of it on herself? Of course, Roger claimed she had brought a bucket in with her, but no bucket was ever found anywhere near the bathroom. She never told me and I’d always wondered. The day Mr. Summers’s house caught on fire, it all became clear to me.”

“She was a Poseidon too?” Fern sat up on her bed, though it made her head ache even worse.

“Call it what you want, but she had your special talent for moving liquid. In this case, disgusting liquid,” the Commander said, shaking her head with amusement.

“Vlad told me that Phoebe was a Blout.”

“Well, maybe she was. After she moved up north, I can’t be sure about what she was up to. Maybe she fell in with some bad people, Fern, and it’s possible, for a while, that she was in a very dark place. But I never saw that side of her. She was an extraordinary person and an extraordinary friend. That’s what counts.”