The Vanishing Vampire (4 page)

That was Norman. Once the search was on for facts or answers, he just shut out everything else. Any other kid would already have run to the next state or tried to plunge a stake into my heart. Norman was more interested in running after information. I knew I'd come to the right place. Norman's room was like a little science museum. Half the walls were filled with books. The rest of the space was taken up by all kinds of specimens. There were rocks, crystals, and all sorts of things in jars. He had a whole bunch of butterflies mounted on a board. They weren't too bad, but I tried not to look at his collection of ants and spiders and beetles. Those things were really kinda gross.

I've always been weird about bugs. I remember, when I was little, really hating the section in the encyclopedia with the pictures of bees. I didn't even want to touch the page.

Norman came back with two more books and a stack of magazines. “Try these, too,” he said.

“Great.”

“Hey, I have an idea. I'll put a query on some message boards.” He pointed to his computer. “I'll post a request for information about vampires. We'll get answers from all over the world. By tomorrow, we'll know everything there is to know about vampires.”

“I thought we were supposed to be careful about believing information from the Internet,” I said.

“I can tell the good stuff from the bad,” Norman said. “And there will be lots of good stuff. Experts are always happy to share their knowledge. Now, let's get started and check out these books.”

Norman and I read through everything. Some of it was obviously not true, but some of it seemed pretty believable. As all the books said, I could rise from the ground. And I couldn't enter a house unless I was invited. But I didn't have to sleep in a coffin during the day. Not yet, at least.

“This is all very helpful,” Norman said, “but we're overlooking one key thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your condition didn't happen by itself, did it?”

“You're right. I hadn't even thought about that.” Someone, or something, had done this to me. There was a vampire in town. Great.

“You need to locate him and find out whatever you can,” Norman said.

“Yeah.” I could probably learn everything I needed to know from the vampire who did this to me. He was out there. He sort of owed me some answers. I had to find him.

“Let's see,” Norman said. “Where would a vampire live if he lived in Lewington?” He turned toward his computer. “We could scan the current postal records and compare them with older ones, looking for relevant changes or patterns that might indicate an individual of the suspected sort had moved into the area. That's a brute-force approach, though we certainly have the computational power to perform it. On the other hand, if we can access hospital records, or do a keyword search of local papers, we could perhaps find reports indicating activity of—”

“Please.” I held my hand up, realizing something that had been tickling at the edge of my senses for most of the day. “We don't have to do anything. I can smell him.”

I walked over to the window, then turned back. “You're a good friend, Norman.”

He smiled. “So are you. Thanks for not biting me.”

I crawled down the side of the house and returned to the shelter of the night. My skin tingled, but not from the coolness of the air. It was time to meet my maker.

 

Eight

CREATURE COMFORTS

Actually,
smelling
wasn't quite the right way to describe it. Maybe
knowing
was a better way to put it, or
sensing
. But I moved toward him without any trouble. We were connected. I passed several streets of large, expensive houses.

He wasn't there.

I passed rows of modest homes.

He wasn't there.

I followed the trail to the river, to a run-down, abandoned warehouse.

He was there.

I stopped in front of the door. It was locked. But I didn't think the lock would be a problem. And I didn't think I needed an invitation. I only needed permission to enter the home of a regular person—the normal flesh-and-blood kind. There was nothing human on the other side of the door. I didn't need permission—I just needed to get past the lock.

How? How to get in?

I released myself from myself. Maybe there's a word for it, but I sure couldn't think of one. I just sort of let go and became fog. This was new. This was different. It was also scary. I felt that if I drifted far enough away from myself, if I spread over a wide enough area, I would stop being me. Forever.

I drifted under the door and formed into myself again.

He was sitting in a chair.

In the middle of the crumbling warehouse, with all kinds of smashed wooden crates and broken glass, he sat in a large leather chair. Tall shelves made of old, rotting wood filled up most of the floor space. They were loaded with worthless stuff—tubs of old motor oil, used engine parts, and other junk. One shelf, stretching almost to the ceiling, leaned dangerously over the chair.

He was reading a book and holding a goblet of—I looked closely; it was too clear to be blood.

He raised his gaze from the page. He appeared to be a little older than my dad. He was pretty much like the picture that came to mind when I heard words like
sophisticated
and
gentleman.

He looked at me for a moment, lowered the book, then spoke. “Oh, dear,” he said in a quiet voice.

“What did you do to me?” It was a stupid question. We both knew what he'd done.

“I just took a sip. A little bitty sip. Just enough to sustain me. It shouldn't have caused you any real problems.” He sighed.

“Obviously, you messed up.”

His eyes turned red and fierce. Suddenly, I remembered those same eyes burning in the darkness the night of the movie. He flung his hand out, and a force slammed me backwards, pinning me to the wall. “Speak properly to your elders,” he said.

He relaxed his hand and I slid to the floor. “Sorry,” I said, getting up. “I didn't mean to be rude or anything. But how would you feel if you were suddenly turned into one of the undead?”

He winced. “I hate that word. The proper term is currently
person of the night
. Look, this is nothing to get upset about. There are many advantages. You should feel honored.”

I kept quiet, though I was dying to tell him what I thought of this great
honor
. I knew that anything I said would upset him, and I didn't feel like dealing with another blast of his anger.

“Besides, it's probably temporary.”

“What?”
Those were the last words I had expected him to say.

“It won't last. I took a sip, that's all. Think of it as a temporary condition. Use a bit of common sense. If every donor joined us, don't you suppose the world would become somewhat crowded with persons of the night?”

I felt a little better. “How do I go back to…” I almost said
normal,
but I realized that word might not be such a good choice. It was pretty obvious that he thought he was the normal one in the room. “How do I get back to the way I was?”

He shrugged. “It is difficult to say. The condition could simply disappear. But it affected you so quickly that I doubt you can shake it off like a bad cold.” He smiled—slightly—and said, “Maybe you're just a natural. Maybe this is your destiny. You could be headed for greatness. You can certainly remain as you are, if you wish.”

“I just want to be the way I was.”

“Perhaps you will. There are many stories. Unfortunately, they are usually incorrect. I don't concern myself with such matters. You see, it isn't my problem—it is your problem.” He raised the book again.

“But…” I needed to know more, but I was scared of getting him angry.

He looked over the top of the book. “The answers are out there. Or maybe they are inside you. Find them if you can. Or don't. It is your affair. I'd suggest you leave now, before I grow weary of you.”

I could see he wasn't going to tell me anything else. So I let go of myself and passed, as fog, beneath the door. Then I pulled back into the form of Sebastian. I hate to admit how easy it would be to get used to this kind of power. I'd never have to buy a movie ticket again.

I headed home, thinking about what the vampire had said, searching for a clue, any information I could use. But there wasn't much.

I got home just as my parents were pulling into the driveway.

 

Nine

SICK DAY

I panicked. My mom and dad were on their way
in
side, and I was still
out
side. I imagined how much trouble I'd be in if they found out that I'd left the house. I was so freaked, I almost forgot about my new “abilities.”

I moved silently across the lawn to the side of the house, then rose to my window and entered my room. As I slipped back into bed, Mom peeked her head through the doorway.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Think you'll be able to go to school tomorrow?”

Uh-oh!
I hadn't even thought about tomorrow. How in the world was I supposed to go to school? I wondered if they had night school for kids. I imagined my class huddled around a small pile of ashes in the middle of the school yard, poking them with a stick, wondering what had happened to Sebastian.

I realized Mom was waiting for an answer. “I don't know,” I said, trying to sound weak.

She smiled. “We'll see how you feel in the morning. It won't hurt you to miss another day.”

“Probably not.” I watched her leave.

There was something I had to do before tomorrow morning. I had a couple of posters in my closet. I'd bought them two or three months ago, but hadn't gotten around to putting them up yet. I grabbed one—Lon Chaney Sr. as the original Hunchback of Notre Dame—and tacked it over the window with pushpins. I wasn't going to get fried by sunshine again.

I spent the rest of the night learning more about the limits of my senses. I lay in bed and practiced reaching out for sounds, picking one thing at a time out of all the noise that filled the air. It was like talking to someone at a party. Even when the room was full of voices, I could focus on the person I was talking to.

But there was one big distraction.

I was hungry.

There was a deep emptiness inside me. It was still bearable—but I knew that it would get stronger. And I was sure that in the end, it would gain control and force me to do something I didn't want to do. I gagged and shuddered every time I thought about it.

Despite the covered window, I could tell when the sun began to rise. The rays sprayed the side of the house like bullets. I stayed under the blankets, waiting for the day to pass. Right after she got up, Mom came in to check on me.

“Well?” she asked.

“Sick day,” I said.

“I'll call the school. Maybe Norman can get your homework.”

“That would be great.” Homework. It was almost funny. The things that had played a huge part in my life were suddenly not important. Did a boy who could become fog really need to know the capital of Argentina or the middle names of all the presidents? What could I possibly need to know about solar energy beyond the fact that it could turn me into toast?

Rory came in and we played cards for a while. He loved to play Slapjack. I usually made a big show of moving slowly so he could win. I think he knows I'm doing that, but it still makes him happy. We must have played two dozen games before he got tired of winning and left.

Finally, I heard Norman at the door. He came up carrying a couple of books and some worksheets. “Your homework,” he said with an expression that showed he'd also realized that when you're a vampire, homework isn't a top priority. “How are you doing?”

I shrugged. “I'm not sure. But I found
him.
”

Norman dropped the books on my desk and pulled a chair up to the bed. “You did? What was he like? Was he wearing a cape? Did he have a coffin to sleep in?”

“No cape, no coffin. He wasn't very helpful. But he did say it didn't have to be like this forever. It might wear off. He also said there might be a way to change back.”

Norman nodded. “I checked my computer before I came over. There are a ton of messages already, and more coming in. We're getting answers from all around the world. Come over tonight.”

“Great. I'll be there as soon as my folks go to sleep.”

“Okay. I'd better get home and start reading through the stuff that's come in already.”

“Thanks.” I watched him leave, then killed some time doing homework. I figured I might as well keep up with the work since I had every intention of returning to normal.

My parents stayed up late that night. Finally, when they were both asleep, I left home and went to see what Norman had learned.